


You Don't Drown by Falling in the Water, You Drown by Staying There

by ShipTheShips



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Unrequited Love, hopefully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-02-10 06:45:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 38,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12906381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipTheShips/pseuds/ShipTheShips
Summary: Whenever he opens his eyes it's there, peacefully stroking along the length of his bare calf, tickling along the sparse hair scattered along the pale skin there, the coldness stinging and prickling in his muscles. He imagined what it would be like if it was always this peaceful, just calmly floating by, not minding anyone's business but its own, not a care in the world except for just running, running, not stopping.





	1. Chapter 1

Water, water, water. 

Whenever he opens his eyes it's there, peacefully stroking along the length of his bare calf, tickling along the sparse hair scattered along the pale skin there, the coldness stinging and prickling in his muscles. He imagined what it would be like if it was always this peaceful, just calmly floating by, not minding anyone's business but its own, not a care in the world except for just running, running, not stopping. 

The first time he blinks it creeps further up, consuming the entire stretch of his lower body, slowly seeping into the dip of his belly button, stroking over the soft baby fat gathered at his hips, almost whispering at him, calm little reassuring words as it consumes him, swallows him whole. 

The second time he blinks it passes his nipples, darkness swallowing up his abdomen slowly but surely, his arms stretched above his head as he reaches for something, anything, to pull himself out with, the cold water caressing under his arms as it sings to him, the soft words of a lullaby his mother used to sing to him when he couldn't sleep at night, the darkness morphing into her face, her dark hair identical to his own, the tickling surface turning into the soft touch of her fingertips, cupping his jaw softly. 

The third time he blinks, he's drowning. There's water forcing its way through his nostrils and mouth, slithering its way into his chest and sloshing around in his lungs, his desperate attempts at getting out lost to the thick, dark nothing, his body trashing as he tries to escape, a weight that he couldn't feel holding him down. He tries to look, desperately searching for the thing that keeps him from living, dark eyes scanning the water feverishly as he kicks his legs, the constricting hold around him only tightening. 

He rarely ever makes it to the fourth blink before he wakes up, the feeling of his lungs burning from overexertion usually enough to jolt him awake, but this particular night it doesn't. This time he feels the moment where his lungs give out to the burning pain, the organs failing with a soft flutter before it feels like he's frozen, his body swaying lifeless around in the nothing. Something calls for him, touching along the dip of his collarbones, briefly running up the length of his neck before settling at the space behind his ear, the soothing touch contrasting the rough jerks of his body as he pulls, pulls at whatever he can to live. 

"Tommy." 

If he could scream, his lungs would shatter. His head tilted back as there was light, a dim, yellow circle above him that grew, his eyes squeezing shut as it overpowers him, illuminates his blue lips and the purple bags under his hazel eyes. His leg twitches weakly as he tries to swim, the last huff of breath leaving his body as his fingers barely graze the surface, the light growing brighter with each passing minute. He's dying. 

"Tommy!" 

The touch turns rough all of a sudden, pressure building behind his ears as his head lolls back and forth, neck strained with the effort. Water sloshes around him, eyes threatening to roll back into his skull as a final goodbye.

"Tommy!" 

The light dims as he's awoken, deep moss green and pinched, dark eyebrows the only thing he can see as hot breath fans over his sweat covered face, his chest ballooning with every inhale. Two calloused thumbs press up behind his ears and forces his face up, chin tilted back as he gasps for air, his hands wrapped in the thin fabric of a cotton sleep shirt. Dark hair falls over a wrinkled forehead and tickles at his nose, thumbs moving slowly down his neck to place his head safely back onto the soft pillow, plaid pattern mingling with the dark locks of his hair. He's staring at the ceiling as a weight moves from his hips, leaving him alone on the single bed as the entire room is suddenly illuminated, a candle burning on the bedside table next to him. 

"Thought you were fuckin' dyin', mate," he turns his head to watch as Alex lights himself a cigarette and forces the old, creaking window open, fresh air floating through the room as he hoists himself up onto the window sill. Tommy moves his hand up, over the dip of his chest still covered in a smudged, white wife beater, sliding his fingers across the flesh of his throat to feel his pulse beat radically under the slick skin. He makes a poor attempt at sitting up, his ill stomach growling angrily at him as he flops back down onto the soft mattress, a soft huff leaving him. 

"No, you stay the fuck down, I'll get you a towel," with the cigarette tucked safely between puffy, red lips, Alex makes his way past the bed and down the hall, the sound of him rummaging through the cabinets making Tommy smile slightly. 

"They're in the drawer to your left," his voice is hoarse and shaky, his throat all dry as he tries to swallow a couple of times to get rid of the feeling, coughing slightly for good measure. Alex emerges with a cold, damp towel thrown across his, now bare, shoulder and a half full glass of water in his hand. The messy hair atop his head suggests Tommy woke him up with his ruckus, and a temporary feeling of guilt travels through him as the older man joins him on the bed, placing the cold towel across his forehead and threading his fingers into the dark hair at the nape of Tommy's neck to lift his head slightly, pouring the cold liquid into his mouth with surprising care. 

"I have nightmares too, you know," their eyes meet for a split second as Tommy gulps down the last of his water, Alex's hand at his neck slowly retreating to place the cup on the nightstand to their right, reaching across Tommy in the process. The tuft of hair in his armpit splits dead centre, making room for a long, jagged scar that stretches from his ribs all the way to the back of his shoulder and Tommy forces himself to look away, resting his hand next to the thick expanse of the other man's thigh. 

"I don't think they're as bad as yours, though." 

Tommy can't help but to notice how Alex's face completely scrunches up when he smiles, deep dimples on each side of his plump lips giving him a juvenile look as he winks at Tommy, eyes crinkling. 

"I'd hope not," Tommy answers curtly, eyes fluttering closed as he pulls the covers over himself again, his body writhing around on the mattress to turn over on his side, his back facing Alex. There was the distinct sound of rustling before he heard a soft puff of air that threw the room back into darkness again. He fell asleep to the sound of Alex's heavy breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are quite short, but that's just to ensure that I can actually update this thing more than once a month. Thank you for your patience ahah.

Tommy never considered himself a man of many words, always sticking out like a sore thumb with his small group of friends around him hollering and chatting loudly over a few pints of beer. He liked to think Alex was the cause of that, the shaggy haired 29-year-old swinging his glass around the air loudly as he coaxes everyone in near proximity within the tiny bar to join in on their horrid singing, beer sloshing over the edge of his mug. He reeked of self-esteem, his chest puffed out and shoulders lax as a girl saunters up to him and clanks their glasses together, red lips stretching over a row of jagged teeth, hair tied back with a red ribbon, her bangs falling across her forehead. Tommy gulps down a large sip from his mug and nearly misses the hand that Alex slides around her waist, short clipped fingernails digging into the fabric of her flowy, blue dress. Green eyes sparkle underneath the dim lighting of the bar, nimble fingers throwing back the last few drops of his beer before pulling the girl closer, pressing their lips together in an overly heated first kiss. Tommy looks away. 

He's genuinely surprised that Alex willingly follows him home that night, sagging against Tommy's side as they walk along the cobble stoned street, drunken slurs falling from his lips every other second when Tommy would dig his fingers in extra hard against his ribs to keep the man from falling asleep while walking. Alex's head suddenly hits his shoulder and he's made aware of the red lipstick stains trailing down the pale column of the older man's neck, soft smudges against the plane of his chest where he failed to button his shirt all the way up, splotches covering one of his two tattooed swallows. Tommy feels ill, the alcohol he consumed throughout the evening clinging to his insides as he drags Alex after him into the apartment and locks the door behind them. He contemplates on running the man a bath, the sticky layer of sheer sweat across his chest making Tommy frown slightly but he decides to just get him into bed, managing to unclip his braces and pull his shoes off before Alex falls asleep underneath the covers. His hair is a sticky mess against the clean, white sheets, tangled knots falling across his face as he snores softly. Tommy leaves out a couple painkillers and a glass of water for him before crawling into his own bed. 

~ 

A loud, consuming rumble shakes through his limbs, startling him enough for his eyes to pop open, hands moving to grasp onto something, anything, for leverage. It's black, unusually black this time, the water already floating around him as he blinks wearily, the ice cold numbing his flesh. 

There's another rumble, starting at the very base of his feet and sneaking its way all the way up to his hips, shuddering through his chest as he opens his mouth, feels his throat starting to throb as he runs out of air, kicking his feet around slowly. This is different, he thinks, very much so because he's already dying, no prelude tricking him into thinking that he could live, that this time he could pull himself out and survive. This time he has no hope. 

There's a voice, right then, accompanying the third rumble, a soft-spoken mantra of 'Tommy' dancing around his head, bouncing across the bobbing flesh of his Adam's apple as he gulps down a large swallow of water, a gurgling sound emitting from the back of his throat as he pushes himself upwards, eyes wildly searching for the light, the one light that's always there for him to grab for but he's met with nothing but darkness. His throat groans in protest as he screams, ballooning out his chest to let out the loudest possibly cry for help, warm flesh wrapping around his pale legs. He looks, like he always does, tries to get a glimpse of his possible killer but he can't, only black vines wrapping around his calves to hold him down, to make sure he can't live. 

Everything starts buzzing, the very soles of his feet vibrating with the sensation as the water around him ripples softly, strands of his hair moving in delicate waves as another rumble, number four. There are shouts, loud voices ringing inside his head as he presses the palms of his hands to his ears, blocking out the pressure caused by each crash, his eardrums pulsating with the loud noises. Why isn't he dying yet? 

"Tommy, please, I need you to-" 

Black, thick veins transform into pale arms, anchor tattoo sliding along the downy hairs scattering his legs, a pirate shop tickling the inside of his thigh. I'm dying, he realises, this time I'm really dying, at the hands of a face I can't even see- 

"Thomas, wake the fuck up, you have to-" 

There's a mop of curls between his legs, shoulders sliding up the insides of his thigh, strong arms gripping at the space behind his knees as he's pulled down, pale face not yet visible under the dark veil covering his killer, the person who's forcefully taking his life and Tommy wants to cry, he wants to kick his legs out so he doesn't die, but he can't make it. 

All of a sudden there's a blinding light, bright beams illuminating his pale body and he gulps in a large breath of fresh air, the pressure around his lower half disappearing, and he's suddenly alive. The light consumes him wholly, licking along every expanse of his body it can find. He survived. 

Tommy sits up slowly in bed, dry knuckles rubbing at his sore eyes with vigour as he looks around the dark room, eyes squinting as he's met with a beam of light from the open bathroom door. Alex is kneeling on the floor, his elbows supporting his weight against the toilet bowl as he empties his stomach into the ceramic, back arched tensely. He knows Alex bloody hates puking, it's on his top three list of things he absolutely cannot stand, but Tommy can't find it in him to pity the older man as the sweat, grime and alcoholic substances of the previous night forces itself out of him. He throws his legs over the edge of his beaten-up mattress and makes his way over, pushing a piece of slick hair out of his face as he kneels next to his roommate. 

"I keep tellin' you to go easy on yourself, you're such a fuckin' lightweight with alcohol," he reprimands, reaching up to soak an old rag in some cold water before pressing it to Alex's forehead, making a poor attempt to not look into the toilet bowl. He only gets an annoyed grunt in response before Alex is at it again, toes curling as another load of sour bile erupts from his queasy stomach, knuckles white as he grips onto the side of the toilet with as much strength at he could muster up at 4 in the morning. He wipes at his mouth with his wrist, tattooed ink resembling an anchor covered in slime as he drops his forehead against his right bicep. Tommy stares at his hand and gulps inaudibly, quickly wiping at the cold skin with the rag, bringing a hand to the back of Alex's neck to give it a soft squeeze. The skin there is cold to the touch, slightly damp under the rough pads of Tommy's fingers which leads him into sliding his hand further up and into Alex's hair, rubbing at his scalp. It seems to do the trick, his body slumping against the toilet as the tension runs out of his shoulders, a soft sigh escaping him as he settles down. 

"I tried waking you up," Alex mumbles, face still buried in the crook of his arm, chest rising with every steady breath he took, his bare back exposed to the beam of moonlight shining through their bathroom window. Tommy just shushes him, thinks back to Alex's voice echoing in his head during his dream, tries to push it back, away into the depths of his mind, letting his fingers rub against the slick temples of his roommate. 

"I know you did," he confesses, standing up on shaky legs with his hands placed firmly underneath Alex's armpits, hauling him up onto his feet and throwing his sweaty arm over his neck, sticking his leg out to flush down all Alex's sins right down the drain. He manages to get Alex into bed, allowing the man to keep a firm grip of his hand when he tries to creep into his own bed, listening to the heavy wheezing rumbling through Alex's chest every time he took a breath, his face scrunched up in discomfort as another wave of queasiness undoubtedly washes over him. Tommy just guides him over onto his side and shushes him again. 

"I wanted to forget," Alex mumbles after a while, eyelids fluttering as he pulls the covers over his bare chest, fisting his hands into the scratchy material as he nuzzles his face further into his pillow. "Every time I close my eyes I see that fuckin' beach and it's eating me alive, Tom, it's gnawing at my fuckin' bones and I can't deal with it," his voice wavers a bit as he spews out the slurred words, fingers unconsciously rubbing against Tommy's exposed thigh underneath the sheets, his eyelashes casting pretty shadows over the highpoints of his cheekbones. 

"I look at you and I know it's not fair 'cause you're off way worse than me, mate, your nightmares and all that shit, but I thought I was coping well, you know? I thought I was okay," he whispers, eyes fluttering open to look at Tommy, large front teeth chewing at the cracked flesh of his bottom lip as his eyes grow damp at the edges. "And then it turns out, I'm not so okay after all, and I don't know how to deal," a single tear sneaks down his cheek, down the hollow of his cheekbone and down to his protruding cupids bow, his knuckles coming up to wipe it away without a sound. Tommy silently moves his hand next to Alex's, their pinkies brushing against each other and they both hesitate, Alex's eyes nearly shooting daggers at him before his shoulders relax slightly, Tommy finally being brave enough to wrap his finger around Alex's and give it a soft squeeze. 

"After what we've been through, we don't have to be okay," Tommy whispers, leaning over to blow out their bedside candle before pulling the sheets over Alex's shivering form, feeling his way into his own bed with practiced movements, whispering out quiet 'goodnight' before turning his back to Alex and falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments and kudos and general love are deeply fucking appreciated, thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, being all good and updating and shit heeeeyyyy. And yes, I am aware that this part is fucking short I'm so sorry don't kill me

Her name was Barbara Jane Pickett, her long, blonde hair and piercing green eyes being a rare beauty around here, signature red lips a bold statement to the women in their town. She carried herself with a sureness Tommy found fascinating, designer clothing fit specifically to her slim frame making her all the more intimidating as she knocks on their door two nights after the bar incident, her hands clasped in front of her as she waits patiently outside their door. Tommy weighed his options for a while, deciding whether or not he should just blatantly lie and tell her Alex isn't home or invite her in just to see how he would react. Alex made the decision for him as he appeared behind Tommy in the hallway, half naked body covered in an apron and his eyes wide in surprise as he takes in the appearance of their guest. 

"Hello, Alexander," she greets warmly, her cheeks flushing a soft pink at the state of him, dainty fingers moving up to tuck a loose curl behind the delicate shell of her ear, pearl earrings bobbing softly at the disturbance. Tommy thought she looked like an absolute nuisance. 

"Oh, uh, hello?" Alex shoulders his roommate aside to talk to the woman, arms curling protectively over the bare expanse of his chest as he coughs awkwardly, balancing messily at the balls of his feet as he eyes the girl, a small smile plastered on his face. Tommy can't help but to roll his eyes, turning his back to the couple and heading back into the kitchen, tutting softly at the sight of his burnt toast in the frying pan. He can hear Alex murmur through the thin, plaster walls of their dingy townhouse, his deep voice muted and indistinguishable, yet Tommy had no doubt what they were talking about when a quick silence occurred followed by Alex excusing himself upstairs, his footsteps rumbling the ceiling above Tommy's head. Drawers were opened, heels clacked against the floor as their shared wardrobe slid open, and then there was silence. Tommy spaced out until Alex came back downstairs, dressed sharply with his hair gelled back, fingers messing with the top buttons of his shirt. He's next to Tommy, heat radiating from his body as he watches two new slices of bread burn on the stove, a silence stretching between them. 

"I'll be home for dinner." 

It's an empty promise, Tommy knows, but he still reaches up to flick Alex's hands away, finishing up the last three plastic buttons of his cheap shirt, fingers lingering at the collar before letting go, shoulders slumping. 

"Don't lie, Alex. It's rude," he watches the confusion spread across Alex's soft features, watches his dark eyebrows pull closer to the wide expanse of his nose, heart shaped lips pursing tightly as if he's about to answer, make some witty retort but then he turns away, leaves the kitchen without another word, probably taking Barbara out for some brunch, a walk in the park. They'd probably stop by the bakery on their way, buy themselves some old, dry loaf that they could chuck into the water together, watch as the swans fluttered their feathers and glided across the water, no doubt wrapped up in each other's arms in the process. Alex would smile that dimpled smile he reserved only for special occasions, cheeks wrinkling and eyes glinting, like the one he'd given Tommy when he got the job he wanted, or when his mother visited over the holidays. Or whenever he took a pretty girl out, not coming home until the morning after with a rumpled shirt, messy hair and a shit eating grin carving out the very same pair of dark dimples. Tommy's knuckles went white as he grasped the kitchen counters, the loud sizzling from the frying pan just a distant noise as he squeezes his eyes shut, wishes for his thoughts to just shut up for two seconds, wishes for peace. Alex's loud, distinct laughter travels through their open kitchen window from the streets below, his arm slung around Barbara's slim waist as they walked, long blonde hair blowing in the wind. Tommy chucked his toast in the bin. 

He goes to bed alone at 22:00, Alex's bed empty and made up, pillows fluffed and covers smoothed, not a crinkle in sight. Tommy's eyes are trained on it in the pitch darkness of the room, his eyes quickly enough accustoming to the lack of light, the soft silhouette of a pillow lying where Alex's head should be. He turns over, his back turned towards the bed now, and falls asleep. 

He doesn't drown that night. 

~ 

If Tommy didn't feel like his stomach was gonna crawl out of his body and strangle Alex to death, he would probably be snickering to himself at the sight of the lad as he enters the house. His shirt was unbuttoned, probably because there were no buttons left, his undershirt smudged in red where its tucked into his green slacks, his belt hooked loosely over the crook of his elbow. When his eyes meet Tommy's, there are heavy, purple bags lining his under eyes, the flesh looking slightly swollen to the touch as Alex drags his feet across the tiled kitchen floors, grunting in annoyance at the loud screeching from the teapot. Tommy moves it away slowly. 

"Well, you look like utter shit," he comments dryly, pouring two large mugs for them and placing one in front of Alex who merely managed to drop onto a chair, the rackety wood creaking under the weight of him as he places pointy elbows against the table top. Tommy notices the shadows of large, purple bruises descending down the slim column of his neck as he sits down next to him. 

"Fuckin' shut up, mate," Alex grunts back and presses the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, the pressure undoubtedly being borderline painful as a heavy silence occurs, tension building. His lip is busted in three different places, clean cuts slicing through the red flesh, and Tommy can't help but to wonder just how hard Barbara must've latched her teeth into it for it to crack that bad. Then he also remembers he'd rather not know. 

"S'there any food?" There are green eyes staring expectantly at him now, irises a dark green with a soft, golden sheen around the pupil, catching the morning sun outside beautifully as he cocks his head. Tommy gets lost for a few seconds, studying how his heavy brows shielded the top half of his eyes while the sun decorated the bottom, lashes creating shadowy hues against his high cheekbones as he sips his tea, hissing at the burn of the hot liquid. 

"No." 

The answer obviously disappoints if Alex irritated groan is anything to go by, hands clutching the cup of tea as he gets up on shaky legs, fingers tickling along the edges of their kitchen counters as he leaves the room, Tommy now alone at the circular wooden table with a teacup in hand and a million questions in his head. 

"I'm goin' to bed. And, next time, do the fuckin' shoppin', yeah?" Alex's voice ricochets through the thin, plaster walls before the bedroom door closes loudly, leaving the house silent once again. Tommy nearly faceplants the table in pure irritation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, I know this piece is pretty confusing and believe me, I don't understand much more of it than you do but I promise it gets better haha. Patience is key, my loves, thank you for all the continued support. You're the fucking best.


	4. Chapter 4

This could possibly be the dream that kills him. 

At least that's how Tommy feels when his eyes slip open, head still bobbing softly along with the careful waves running through the cold, dark water. His fingers were numb, twitching against the ice-cold expanse of a pale thigh, fingernails dragging painfully against the chilled flesh as he attempts to clench his fists, prepares himself for what's to come. Because something is slithering along his legs and he can't deal with it. 

He always feels like everything happens so slow, so unrealistically, the water forcing itself into his lungs would normally burn and slosh around, the cells in his body crying and twitching with the unnatural feeling. It always felt like he was tortured, like he was supposed to die but he couldn't even do that right, couldn't just close his eyes and let the water do its business undisturbed. He was fucking hopeless. 

But tonight; tonight was very different. Tonight took him by sheer surprise, allowing him a few minutes to just look around, look for the small sliver of light that the darkness always allowed him, a little teasing slip of hope that he could somehow grasp onto, that would make him wake up and realise that his head is just fucked, everything else is okay. Tonight, however, decided that the teasing would be cut to a minimal, opting for a quick and efficient pull around his calves to bring him under water rather than the water slowly rising, slowly suffocating him in a hue of cold and nothing. His body disappeared in seconds, the cold shock making his eyes roll into his head for a second as he gathers himself, or attempts to, anyways, body cramming itself into a makeshift foetus position as warm, nimble fingers envelop his lower half, his body still stiff from the cold. 

This is all so familiar, he feels, those fingers that are so warm against him, fingertips rough with deep callouses from years of work, untrimmed fingernails digging into the insides of his thigh with a force he rarely gets to see, only a handful of times coming to mind as the pain flashes through him, blinds him for a few seconds. He gathers himself, collects enough common sense to reach down, run his fingers along dry knuckles, wrapping around a palm much wider than his own, a poor attempt to pull away, save himself. It's so dark, it always is, but today it feels different, it feels like the darkness upped itself and grew so much emptier, the cold feeling of being so utterly alone yet not alone at all running through Tommy as he tilts his head back, looks for his saviour, the light. He's met with nothing. 

The fingers move, his brain registers the wet, warm slide as the fingernails release their painful hold, leaving behind crescent shapes in his thin skin as they slither up, grabs onto the bony expanse of his hips. This is new, he thinks, his killer has never been this close, a few strands of hair tickling the stretch of his stomach, what could be the tip of a nose fitting into the hollow of his bellybutton and that's when he forces himself to look, chin touching his chest as he just stares, stares at brown, soft curls and tattooed hands, broad and tan shoulders pressed against the tops of his thighs. It's a beautiful contrast, how his killer seems to be his opposite in every aspect of the word, and Tommy's frightened, heart jackhammering in his chest as the hands let go of him in favour of wrapping around his abdomen, squeezing him tightly as they sink, further and further away from his sense of reality, from his reality in general. From a reality where he's alive and safe. 

Brown curls starts tipping back as Tommy forces his hands to cup his jaw, rubs against the sharp bone littered with a soft layer of stubble, unshaven and ridiculously attractive even though Tommy hasn't seen it, mapping out the contour with his fingers. There's a flash of bushy eyebrows and plump lips before the light punches him in the chest, consuming him so abruptly that his head spins-

When he opens his eyes, he's already sitting in bed, the sheets crumpled around his calves as he heaves for air, body covered in sweat. The door to their shared room is left ajar, loud clattering heard from downstairs as Tommy regains control of his heartbeats, a sweaty hand pressed tightly to the skin of his chest. It feels as if it's gonna jump out of his chest right before it all stops, feet hitting the cool hardwood floors with a muted sound as he pulls off his soaked tank, throwing it god knows where in the room. He couldn't care less. 

The hallway is dark apart from the single light turned on in the stairwell, dim light doing a shit job at illuminating the narrow passage, Tommy's hands gliding against the walls as he walks downstairs, the clattering getting louder for a minute before stilling. The lid of a pot rolls past the doorway, stopping a few feet away from Tommy followed by a string of cuss words, tattooed hands reaching after it. Tommy snickers quietly to himself. 

"You redecorating?" Alex whips his head up like a deer caught in headlights, nude apart from his underpants slipping down his hips as he bends into the cabinets, two dimples cutting through the soft flesh at the base of his spine. Tommy keeps his eyes locked on those for a few seconds before shaking his head, hip propped against the doorframe. "I just cleaned in there, you know." 

Alex doesn't appreciate his attempt at humour, just shoves a few pots back into the cabinet before slamming the door shut, kneecaps red and imprinted with the pattern of their tiles as he gets back up. Tommy watches as he grabs milk from the fridge and pours it into the saucepan, the moonlight licking at the tanned skin of his broad shoulders, his tousled bed hair knotted at the base of his skull in a greasy mess. 

"I managed to stash away some cocoa powder before the war, I brought it with me from home," When Tommy comes back to his senses Alex is smiling at him, a tin can of brown powder sitting on the bench as Alex carefully adds some to the milk, slowly stirring with a crooked and chipped wooden spoon. He bends slightly at the waist to accommodate to their tiny stove, a soft pudge forming around his front as he watches the mixture whirl around inside the saucepan, light brown liquid nearly spilling over the edges. "My mum always made cocoa when I couldn't sleep." 

Their arms brush together as Tommy reaches for the pot of sugar, unscrewing it and handing it over, a comfortable silence stretching between them as the mixture starts steaming, smoke curling across the white and blue backsplash, Alex blowing softly at the liquid before sipping it softly, humming carefully at the taste. 

"We can't waste any more sugar, you already pour a shit ton in your tea every morning. That guy handing out the rations every week hates me, I swear," Alex places the pot back in Tommy's open palm, a soft glint in his eyes as he grins, reaching up to grab them two cups. Tommy is once again faced with the jagged scar beneath his arm, the raised, pale line even more visible in the feeble light shining through the window. Tommy noticed the moon was high and bright this evening. 

"So, how are things with you and Barbara?" He utterly surprises himself by asking the question, mug of cocoa clutched between his pale hands as he sips it softly, hot liquid burning the tip of his tongue. Alex shoots him a lopsided grin as he pours the mixture into his own mug, teeth biting at his bottom lip in concentration. 

"She's great, Tom, she's really fuckin' great. We're havin' her over for dinner tomorrow, I hope you don't mind." 

Someone might as well have set him on fire in that very moment, anger bubbling through his veins as Alex continues his rant of Barbara the Saint, completely oblivious to Tommy's jaw clenching so hard his teeth grinded together in a shattering noise. There's a soft glint in those green eyes as he talks about how Barbara is the one thing he's been waiting for, ever since Clara Woodley promised him she'd wait for him, bid him goodbye as he got shipped off to Dunkirk only to run off with someone else. Barbara Jane Pickett was a glowing angel with a halo and a fucking harp and Tommy wished for it all to   
stop. He mumbled a quiet 'goodnight' before emptying the remains of his cocoa into the sink, crawling under the sheets with a heavy feeling in his chest and a wrenching sensation in his gut. 

~ 

When he startles awake at 7:30, there's smoke filling up his lungs, adding to the burning sensation already present from his vivid dream. Alex is propped up at the foot of his bed, knees pulled to his chest and a lit cigarette glowing bright orange in the darkened room, curtains still closed. Another puff of smoke envelops him and their eyes meet in the dark room, Alex's bright and wide open as he stares at Tommy, hair combed back neatly, a stray curl cradling the shell of his ear. He's been awake for some time. 

Tommy forces himself to sit up, sheets pooling around his hips as his chest is exposed to the chilly air in the room, goose bumps littering the expanse of pale skin stretched over his pecks and protruding ribs. He rubs at his eyes with dry knuckles, scratchy skin leaving behind a red tint to the delicate area, lips cracked as he swipes his tongue over it a couple of time, wincing at the slight pain blossoming there. He looks at Alex again. 

"You were trashin' around quite bad, thought you were gonna fall outta bed," Alex grins around the base of the cigarette, cheeks hollowing beautifully as he inhales deeply, the glowing bud fluttering softly under the onslaught. Tommy keeps his eyes trained on the deep contours of his cheekbones, shadows flickering across his face in contrast to the orange and yellow hues from the lit candle on their shared bedside table. He attempts to smile back, but it comes out as more of a pained grimace. 

"Sorry if I woke you..." He mumbles, combing his fingers through the unruly mess of hair slicked across his forehead, gasping out the last remains of a yawn tickling through his lungs, the soft sighing noise creating a stretch of silence between them. Alex leaned forward to put out his cigarette in a glass of water balanced between his ankles. He seems to hesitate for a moment before moving the glass out of the way, scooting forwards until their knees rub against each other, his eyes looking anywhere but Tommy. 

"No, no I was awake," Tommy frowns at that, a cold guff of air flowing through the open window, Alex's hair ruffled over his eyes as he thumbs at his bottom lip, the flesh bright red and puffy. His eyes are glazed over now as he stares at nothing in particular, the green muted down and the tiny specks of gold surrounding his pupil overshadowed by the darkness of the room, shoulders tense and hunched tightly as he's leaning forward, taut muscles straining against the tanned skin of his back. 

"You had a nightmare." 

It's not as much of a question as it is a statement, Alex's jaw clenching at the words but he nods anyways, thick, red lips disappearing as they're sucked inwards, the skin above his top lip whitening as the skin is stretched, littered with short bristles of a wannabe moustache. He looks young as he curls in on himself, messily brushing at the back of his head with tentative fingers as he contemplates on what to say, brows pulled together in a concentrated frown. 

"Had a fuckin' nightmare about that bloody Frenchman," he murmurs after a short silence, tilting his head up with the palm of his hand as support, chin placed neatly in the large surface. He offers what Tommy assumes is an attempt of a smile, the corners of his mouth merely twitching as he closes his eyes, curled lashes fanning across his cheekbones. 

"Keeps fuckin' haunting me, man, won't leave me the fuck alone," he straightens up slightly just as his eyes flutter back open, "I just can't get him out of my head, Tom, I just wanna bloody sleep, yeah? It feels like I'm fuckin' drowning." 

An ice-cold chill runs down the knobs of Tommy's spine, cooling through the very core of him as he purses his lips tightly, teeth nibbling at the already bleeding flesh of his bottom lip. If you're fucking drowning, then what am I? He wants to say, willing himself to shut up as he eyes the crumpled shape of his once proud and taut soldier roommate, the guy who used to have all the birds in fucking town running after him as he sauntered down the streets with his uniform wrapped across his shoulders, the shape of him here on the bed just a mere ghost of what he used to be. Tommy reaches back and blows out the candle, the room around them going from relatively dark to pitch black in mere seconds. 

"Good night, Alex."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are probably gonna be slower, considering the fact that my brain is on one hell of a strike and it's killing my soul. Hope you enjoyed, thanks for all support.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments never fail to make me smile, thank you for all continued support as always. Hope you like it.

Barbara Jane was the daughter of Lieutenant Colonel William Anton Pickett, her mother a retired military nurse, and they all lived in a larger home in the outskirts of town, surrounded by large acres of land that included a horse ranch, a chicken pen and a pool so large it should be called an ocean. At least, she made it sound that way as she spoke humbly of her home while politely eating the overcooked chicken Alex had served them all. 

Tommy wanted to hate this girl so badly, catching himself glaring at her across the kitchen table as she smiled widely at Alex's stupid work story, a pale, delicate hand reaching up to brush a curled lock of strawberry blonde hair over her sweater clad shoulder. Her cheeks were a soft, rosy colour as Alex reached over to swipe at the corner of her mouth with the pad of his thumb, a grin etched over his features as he did so, and Tommy thought me might throw up. 

Alex excused himself to use the bathroom 30 minutes later, the table cleared and currently occupied by three mugs of steaming, hot coffee and a platter of biscuits Tommy's mother had brought over the previous week. Barbara had her mug clutched in her thin hands, the flesh gaining a hint of colour as the heat from the mug danced over the thin flesh of her fingers. She's looking at Tommy. 

"Have you known each other for long?" It's such a disgustingly simple question, her tone gentle and kind as she drinks her coffee, the heat of it undoubtedly burning the sensitive flesh of her tongue, yet she didn't even flinch. Her eyes were still on Tommy, the shadow of a soft smile ghosting over her features as he scratches at the back of his neck, shrugging quickly. 

"Since the war. Saved his life at Dunkirk beach and he stuck to me like the plague," she grins at that, her head bobbing with each nod she gave, heavy jewellery swinging from the lobe of her ears. 

"I can imagine." 

The silence between them doesn't bother Tommy all that much, Barbara straightening her back and brushing at the folds of her bottle green skirt the minute she picks up on Alex shuffling down the stairs, a wide smile adorning her features once again as if he'd never left. She held herself high and proud and Tommy was gobsmacked. 

She leaves at 21:00 sharp after snogging Alex for approximately 30 minutes in front of their fireplace, her fingers combing through strands of knotted hair. She gives Alex an overly sweet smile and leans up to peck his cheek, reapplies her red lipstick in the hallway mirror and waves goodbye, her heels clacking loudly against the pavement outside as she disappears into the night, hollering for a taxi across the street. Tommy watches her from the living room window, his arse propped up on the window sill as he drinks his third cup of coffee this evening, hands shaking slightly at the caffeine sizzling through his veins. Alex is watching him from the doorway, cheek smudged in red and a love struck look in his green eyes. 

"I'm gonna fuckin' marry her, Thomas, I'll do it tomorrow if I have to," Tommy doesn't answer him in favour of sipping his drink again, registering the sound of Alex leaving for the upstairs a few seconds later, the tap running in the bathroom as he presumably scrubs his face free of waxy, red lipstick. Tommy dumps the rest of his coffee in the sink before he trudges up the stairs with sluggish, slow movements, ignoring his roommate as he undresses and buttons up his pyjama shirt, the fabric a few sizes too big where it hangs heavily off of bony shoulders. He surprises himself by falling asleep before Alex even enters the room, eyelids fluttering closed as his watch strikes 21:14, luring him into sleep. 

~ 

He's on dry land. 

His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion as he looks around, nothing but a black, shiny empty under the soles of his feet as he circles 180 degrees, tries to decipher what's going on. He stands there in the nothing, dressed in his white cotton shorts and plaid sleep shirt, his hair mussed in a mess of sleep and leftover grease, bare feet padding softly against the floor as he walks, cold fingers fisted in the fabric of his button up. There is noise, a soft pattering noise like rain hitting tin roofing, and it's so quiet and gentle that the hairs rise at the back of his neck, a zing of cold goose bumps dancing across the knobs of his spine. 

The pattering intensifies, as if it’s a storm looming above, gaining power and hitting the ground roughly enough to bounce back up before inevitably settling in the cracks of asphalt, in between each little piece of rubble, and he can feel it now. He can feel it approaching. 

It's never been this slow, but soon enough it comes. It slithers along the edge of his feet and tickles at his protruding ankles, locking him in place as he tries to run, every stretch of blackness being consumed by equally black water, a water so cold and dark Tommy would dare to call it death himself, the softness of it such a contrast to the power it holds, to the power it shows Tommy every time he closes his eyes. It's there, like end credits projected onto the backs of his eyelids, grabbing every speck of attention it can and clamping down on it like a vice and Tommy can't stop. He can't stop watching it, can't stop satisfying it by giving in like he does every time, just releasing his hold on the earth and allowing himself to be swept away by his killer. 

Today it's unusually slow, and Tommy hates it. It's not rising with a noticeable speed that reeks of efficiency, it's just comfortably sliding up his calf in a near sensual manner, confusing him beyond everything as he stands there, completely in control of himself yet not at all, just watching as the pale skin of his legs and feet disappear into the splashing water, the noise of waves crashing against the shore ringing in his ears as he realises that this is going to be slow torture and he absolutely hates it. He kicks at the water, watches it ripple around the skin of his heel and bounce away in black droplets, disturbing the soft lulling sound with its loud crashing noise, and it's so frustrating, Tommy just wants it to stop so he can wake up, he just wants to die so he can survive. And it's taking too bloody long. 

He's about to start walking again when the killing begins, his steps ending before they even begin as fingers wrap around his ankle, restricting his getaway with an easy yank, the ground underneath him disappearing. Water forces into his mouth as he's pulled under, his surprised gasp sending small bubbles floating towards the surface, his arms flailing as he fights to get the upper hand that he thought he'd been given, the little control he had ripped out from underneath him, literally, and stored away for later. Next time. 

It allows him a few gulps of air as he resurfaces, hair matted down against his forehead as he kicks his legs to stay afloat, groping fingers reaching to settle at the juncture between outer thigh and hip, short clipped fingernails digging into the cold flesh of his body and it fucking hurts so much, a pained yelp falling from his lips as he twists in the tight grip, tries to wriggle away from the strong hold to no avail, tears springing to his eyes at the realisation that today he's being teased, he's being given hope and light for the darkness' amusement, serving as nothing more than pre-meal playtime before he's being devoured by the unknown beast. He's like a tiny mouse sprinting around, rough movements and quick tactics non-comparable to the feline hunting him down. 

Something damp settles at the back of his neck, soft puffs of moist air sticking to the short-clipped hairs there, and Tommy doesn't feel alone suddenly. It's that god-awful tightening that settles in your gut when you're being observed, the aura of another human being so distant yet so close, fingers ghosting over the slip of skin above his collarbones. His eyes slip shut at the sensation, every muscle in his body tight as he's enveloped in heat and he now understands why death is so hard to fight, the soothing feeling of being light as a feather and bright like the midday sun as addicting as anything. He can feel his eyelashes fluttering as he relaxes into the warm touch, lets his head loll back until the knobs of his spine cracks softly, the feeling like no other and he grins, trapping the flesh of his bottom lip between his teeth. 

A clap of thunder shakes him, and the touch is gone. 

He's confused beyond compare, kicking his legs to stay afloat as it all slips away, the cold water once more consuming him, and when he opens his eyes there is only green, bright and sparkling green. There's bushy, soft eyebrows creasing into a soft wrinkle above a large, straight nose, curled eyelashes cascading from the green like a soft halo, the dark black of a pupil seemingly staring straight at Tommy, flickering softly in the dark. He can't move, he can only reach up to cover the large, tanned hands cupping the sides of his face in an iron grip, making no attempt at escaping the tight hold, just resting his hands there. He feels blinded despite his ability to see, can't seem to focus properly on what's in front of him, either that or he's denying what he's seeing. 

He's being murdered by a highlander with a crooked haircut and a distinct northern accent, a body covered in dark artwork and smudges of oil, floppy hair catching in the wisps of long eyelashes curling away from burning, glittering green and Tommy feels sick to his stomach. If he was awake, if he wasn't being murdered in dark, cold water by the hands of the person he trusted with his life and then some, he would be on his knees while emptying his stomach, and he can nearly taste it on his tongue. 

There's talking, pink and plumped lips move in the shadows of his dreams, hoarse whispers traveling around the room, ricocheting off the walls and towards Tommy in a blur of noise. The words are indecipherable, muted by the constant noise residing in his mind, crashing of waves and pattering of raindrops, the hissing sound of a building storm; it's all so consuming. He can feel each word on his face, each syllable marked by a huff of air dusting over his top lip and he squeezes at the hands on his face, tries to wriggle his fingers underneath the soft flesh of dry palms to hold on, to leverage himself amongst everything going on around him despite the emptiness he's seeing. The fingers slide from his cheeks to the slip of skin behind his ears, weaves into the thick locks of dark hair on his head and grabs on tight, yanks him forward until their lips are touching. Tommy's heart is hammering in his chest, the only physical sign he can find to prove that he is indeed still alive, each soft thud accompanied by the strings of words falling from his murder's mouth, the highlander he trusted with everything. 

Alex's mouth. He didn't want to think about it, but when the soft, pink flesh of lips presses against his own he sobs like a child, deems himself as a lost cause as every inhale he takes is sucked right out of his lungs, strong hands pressing at his clammy neck, the back of his head held firmly as he squirms, makes the most physical attempt at surviving that he had ever made. His eyes are wide, the wide eyes of his killer staring right back at him as oxygen travels between the two, the life sucked out of Tommy and transferred directly into Alex like a well-oiled machine, the transition so smooth and painless Tommy starts wondering when it's going to end, if it ever does. He goes slack, the fists he had been pounding against the hard-structured chest in front of him dropping to hang against his sides, and the last breath that leaves him echoes through the empty as he sinks to the bottom.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're all beautifuuuuuul, I once again thank you for your support, I love you to death. Hope you like it.

On January 21st, approximately 4 months after their first encounter at the bar, Alex drops down on one knee and presents a beautiful, diamond encrusted ring with a blue, glittering diamond acting as the centrepiece, a family heirloom that Barbara's father had given him when he asked for her hand in marriage. He waits for a special occasion, invites his family over from Manchester and throws a big dinner party, course after course delivered to them out in their impeccable garden, beautiful forests and colourful meadows acting as a backdrop the minute he turns to her and presents the red, velvet box, her eyes wide in excitement as she nods feverishly and throws her arms around his shoulders, allowing him to sweep her off her feet and into his arms, her lace embroidered dress flowing around their legs as he spins her around. Tommy sulks in the corner with his champagne flute in hand, the crystal glittering underneath the soft porch light above his head, all of the family members happily congratulating the couple, Alex's smile so wide it must be painful by now and Tommy wants to kick himself in the face for not being the reason behind that smile. 

They return to their apartment late at night, Tommy's wristwatch ticking nearly 1:30am as he locks the door behind them, his shirt rumpled with two distinct arm pit patches of sweat lining the thin material due to the copious amounts of dancing he had done throughout the evening with Barbara's third cousin, Mary. She was everything Barbara wasn't, dark haired and brown eyed, lived in a modest flat by herself in central London with a small Yorkshire Terrier named Betsy whilst working at a factory that produced pots and pans during the war, now acting as a station for people to receive their rations. Her cheeks were ruddy and her smile was bright, and Tommy found himself enjoying her company until Alex tugged at his sleeve and informed him that they were leaving, Barbara clinging to his side with a pout on her face. He bid Mary goodbye with a modest kiss to her hand, a tint of blush covering her cheeks as they were separated. 

Now, as opposed to the soft company of a nice woman, he was stuck with Alex grunting as he tried to unbutton his shirt, his chest exposed to the dim light of their hallway, skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat. Tommy felt like a babysitter as he pushed Alex's large, paw like hands away and unbuttoned it all the way with ease, grabbing the material to slide it off his large shoulders. Alex muttered a soft thank you and offered him a careful smile, wobbling up the stairs in a sleepy haze before disappearing into their bedroom. Tommy throws Alex's shirt as well as his own in the laundry basket before turning all the lights off, heading upstairs himself. 

Alex sat hunched over at the end of his bed with his head pillowed by the palms of his hands, pitiful groans falling from his mouth with each little movement he made. Tommy decided to give him a rough slap on the back as he passed him, lighting the candle with a crooked, crispy matchstick. 

"It's not gonna get any better after you marry her, mate. Women like that are always a handful," Tommy knew the comment was rude and unnecessary, Alex's eyebrows pulling into a frown being confirmation enough, yet he couldn't help himself. He shrugged slightly and sat down across from Alex, their eyes meeting briefly before he bends to peel his socks off. It was more of a distraction than a necessity. 

"It's none of your fuckin' business, Tom, so I don't see why you keep being so rude towards her. She hasn't done shit to deserve it," he can sense the anger in Alex's voice, wavering on the side of pissed off as Tommy pushes all his clothes into a small pile at the end of his bed and gets up to crank the window open. Chilly air brushes over his bare chest and arms as he's revealed to the evening sky, hands gripping tightly at the fabric of their moss green curtains, knuckles turning white with the force of it. Alex gets up from the bed in a smooth motion, hands tucked away in his pockets as he strides up to Tommy, face deeply contoured by the moonlight shining through the window, eyes glowing an intense green as he confronts him, stance screaming of dominance. "Tell me, Tommy, what's your fuckin' problem?" 

Tommy doesn't really want to answer, just clenches his jaw tightly and pulls the curtains shut, throwing the room into darkness apart from the candle lit on their night stand, the flame flickering in yellows and oranges across the panelled walls. The air seems heavier in that moment, filled with shit he wants to tell Alex but can't, shit that shouldn't ever leave the safe haven of his mind, should just be tucked away into a faraway corner and forgotten. Alex's intense stare becomes too much and he cracks, whipping around so they're face to face, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth to the point where the skin turns white. 

"You're fucking killing me, that's what the goddamn problem is," Alex's brows draw together tightly as Tommy steps into his space, jams his clenched fist into the space between his pecks, directly beneath the birds. "You don't even know how much it fucking hurts every time she's around, Alex, I just wanna chuck a goddamn plate out the window because you're not hers to have." 

He's angry to the point where it hurts, the muscles of his neck contracting painfully to muffle each word that slips out of him. He slams his fists against Alex's chest angrily and pushes him back, tries to regain control of his rogue breathing, chest ballooning with the force of his ragged inhales. It feels too much like his dreams, like Dunkirk, the pain of his body shutting down on him pricking through every bone in his body and rendering him into a gasping mess, his forehead tipping forward to connect with the wooden sliding doors of their shared closet. He can hear Alex beside him, the shuffling of his awkward, pigeon toed feet coming up to his right about the same time as an arm lays across his shoulders, strong fingers squeezing at him. 

"I don't know what the fuck you're on about, Tom, but you gotta stop, yeah? Gotta calm down," he nudges at Tommy's side and tries to pull him towards the bed, the warmth of his bare skin a painful contrast to the chill flesh of Tommy's back, so the younger boy pulls away sharply. With a dirty look thrown at Alex he straightens up and wipes at his tear streaked cheeks, his soft inhale shaky and ragged. 

"You never ask me what I dream of, Alex, why don't you ever ask me?" He can tell by the look in Alex's eyes that he'd rather not be talking about this at all, eyes flickering away from him in favour of looking down towards the floor. His jaw tightens visibly, hollowing in his cheekbones and sharpening the cut of his jawline, and he grabs onto Tommy roughly the second he slaps a hand down onto his shoulder. "Fucking tell me!" 

He struggles to keep Tommy at a distance as the younger man keeps yelling at him, at some point throwing a punch that lands across the left side of his ribs, a loud grunt escaping him as he flinches away and covers the bruised skin with his free hand, using the other one to push Tommy away whenever he got too close. 

"You already know, you fucking asshole, you know exactly what you're doing and yet you stick around. Keep me on my bloody toes, you know I'd do anything for you and you're taking advantage of it every chance you get," Alex finally allows Tommy up close when he stops talking, pressing his finger harshly into the skin of Alex's right peck, pants fanning across the exposed skin of his shoulder, "you kill me, every fucking night, and you will do so until you disappear." 

Alex hasn't looked at him yet, keeps his eyes trained on the floor as Tommy voices all his worst nightmares out to him word by word, the green of his iris glazed over with an unknown emotion Tommy is too pissed to pay attention to. He just grabs Alex by the shoulders and slams his torso against the wall, rattling the old picture frames on the wall hard enough for them to topple down and break, the room silent apart from the glass drizzling across the floorboards and Tommy's loud breathing. Alex lets his eyes flicker to Tommy's face curtly before he clears his throat, shuffling awkwardly on pigeon toed feet. 

"You talk in your sleep. It's not loud, it's just mumbling mostly, and at first, I didn't pay attention," Alex licks his lips quickly and roams his eyes over Tommy's face, "but then I saw how you fuckin' freaked out whenever you woke up, so I listened..." He swallowed loudly enough for it to reach Tommy's ears, hands playing nervously with the button of his underpants. Tommy shuffled closer and forced his chin up with the pads of his fingers digging into the soft skin of his chin, eyes cold and dark as they studied the form of his nervous roommate. "You kept repeating my name, Tom, and I didn't know what it fuckin' meant, I didn't, okay? I swear, I just thought you were havin' nightmares of..." 

He trails off, tongue catching at the name of the beach neither of them wanted to talk about, his bottom lip disappearing behind his front teeth as he bit at it, a nervous habit he'd had since as long as Tommy could remember. 

"You could just ask." 

Alex looks quizzically at him, a wrinkle forming on his normally smooth forehead. 

"If you were so fucking curious what made me cry like a baby, you'd ask, the blunt fucker you are. You're not the type to dwell," Tommy can see the flicker of several emotions wash over Alex's face, uncertainty laced with worry, then replaced with coldness and finally his jaw locks into place and he's just closed off. He pushes at Tommy's chest roughly enough for the boy to stumble back, sock clad feet crunching across broken glass. "You're having them, too, aren't you? You don't ask because you know exactly what's going on," he pries, latches onto Alex's arm as he moves to leave the room, attempts to pull him back after finally getting somewhere with the stubborn ass of a man he shared his life with, yet Alex just pushes him away angrily. Tommy's not having it. 

"Of course I fuckin' have them, too, Tom, jesus," he pulls his fingers through the messy fringe of his hair and exhales shakily, "I haven't slept properly since I got home," his back is turned to Tommy as he stands there in the doorway, the soft light of their ceiling light illuminating his frame like a glowing halo, broad shoulders and back muscles occupying the doorframe to near completion. "I only sleep when I think of her, I need her." 

And there it was, the big, shattering sentence Tommy never thought he would have to hear despite the many female conquests Alex had brought home over the past months of living together. It spiked through the hollow of his chest and unfurled itself like fireworks, tickling along his ribs and sizzling across his insides and he wanted to puke, right there and then, because it was everything he had never asked for. He straightened his back out and swallowed down the heavy lump in his throat, willing away the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes because he was acting like a fucking pussy, he thought, like a scared, little girl. 

"Without her, you drown," he nods understandingly, his voice laced with a thick layer of emotion as he smiles through his tears, Alex's frame turning to look at him in concern. Tommy wanted to scream and throw shit around the room, yet he knew he should be happy for Alex, happy that he found light before he even hit the end of the tunnel, he found a light to lead him away from the long, nearly inevitable darkness and Tommy envied him as much as he hated him. Their eyes met across the room and he nearly broke down, but he managed to hold it all back. 

"I'm happy for you, Alex. I really am." And then his chest blossomed in pure, earth shattering pain.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been slow at my writing lately, which is why this chapter is a day late (thankfully not more), but I once again thank you for your love and support and all the fucking praise in the comment section, I love you all to bits. Writing in a language that isn't your mother tongue has its challenges, but your support gets me through the toughest shit and I owe you my fucking life, haha. I hope you like it, as I always do, and all feedback is appreciated.

Mary phoned him a week after the engagement, her voice raspy and sweet over the line as he invited him for a cup of coffee in town. It wasn't surprising after their exchange during that evening, yet Tommy was nervous and insecure as he dressed himself in a simple outfit with one of Alex's large coats wrapped around his frame, his reflection staring back at him like a ghost as he studied himself in the hallway mirror. Alex eyed him from his position in the living room chair, cigarette pressed to his lips as he read the newspaper. 

"Where you goin'?" His voice broke off in a hoarse rasp at the last word, nose flared red around the edges and eyes glazed over from the sickness he had acquired a few days ago, sock clad feet propped up on the coffee table. Tommy itched to push them off, yet he refrained. 

"Meeting Mary for a cup, I'll be back by dinner at least." 

He didn't care to elaborate any further as he wrapped a large, woven scarf around his neck and left their apartment. 

~ 

The coffeeshop was warm and cosy, sparsely populated apart from a group of girlfriends occupying a booth at the back and an elderly couple eating lunch by the windows. With the large scarf and the heavy coat draped around him, Tommy felt like he took up too much space as he entered. 

Mary sat alone at a table pushed into a hidden corner, two cups of steaming hot beverage in front of her as she read the newspaper, her dark hair curled and pushed back by a series of pins at the top of her head, lips lined in a dark plum colour and long lashes coated black. She looked up as Tommy sat down, her smile coy and playful as she reaches across the table to grab his hand, stroking over his knuckles with her thumb. Unlike Barbara, her fingernails were slightly chipped yet coated in a layer of shiny nail varnish, but it gave her a less stuck up look, and most importantly it made her even more opposite of Barb. Tommy found himself intrigued. 

"Thought you stood me up for a moment there," she grinned, pushing a cup of what appeared to be breakfast tea with some milk in it towards him, their fingers brushing quickly as he accepted the drink. She eyed him as he sipped it, humming contently at the soft yet comfortable burn that filled his mouth accompanied by the slight sweetness of the tea. At the approval, she nodded softly. 

"So, I was right then? You seemed like more of a tea man, I myself lean more towards coffee," she gestured towards her cup of steaming, pitch black coffee, taking a quick sip before placing it back on the table, her eyes friendly and warm as she looked at him across the table. 

"Tea's fine," he smiled, yet it felt forced, but he brushed it off as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, several dates scribbled into it in a messy handwriting. He gulped down a few more sips and appreciated the burn in his throat. 

"Found this lying around in the kitchen this morning, figured you'd like to know," Tommy squinted at her as he grabbed the note and looked over the dates, face laced with confusion as he looked back to her, "you know, considering you're so queer for him it's nearly blinding." 

Tommy nearly snorted his tea through his nostrils at the crude nonchalance in her voice, thoughts creeping around in his head as he stares disbelievingly at her, fingers clutching the white ceramic mug with a tad too much strength. She gave him a lopsided grin and reached across the table to lace their fingers together, pale skin melding beautifully against the mahogany table underneath. Tommy found himself unable to move as she eyed him carefully, her hands warm and soft against him as she speaks. 

"When I was 17, my family and I went on holiday to Marseille, and it was so hot I will never forget it. I woke up in the mornings, drenched in sweat despite the window being cranked open, and my family were so angry for me because I absolutely hated it there, they told me I was being rude and ungrateful for the luxuries I was being presented with. Yet, when we left after 6 weeks I found myself sobbing in grief because the thought of leaving Jacqueline behind made my chest ache," her fingers slipped from Tommy's as she straightened her back, a curly lock of dark brown hair falling from her up do and across her pencilled eyebrows. Tommy watched as the black of her lashes melted onto her cheekbones as fresh tears rolled from her dark eyes, her hands coming up to wipe away the tar. "She was the first and last love I've ever had, and I'll never forget it. You shouldn't, either. I can tell he cares about you," she offers with a kind smile, her napkin stained black as she wiped at her undereye, the soft, chocolate brown of her iris surrounded by bloodshot red. 

"I- eh, how did you know?" Tommy doesn't know what else to ask, reaching for her across the table again to wrap his fingers around her thin wrist, thumb stroking over the pulsating flesh there. "That you were in love, I mean." The question sounds so stupidly simple as it tumbles out of him, but Mary showed no signs of amusement as she shrugged, the last sip of her coffee disappearing down her throat with a quiet slurp. 

"Whenever I saw her, I wanted to smack her just as much as I wanted to kiss her. And the thought of spending a lifetime with her, despite it being a lifetime of hiding, didn't seem like an obstacle I'd be unwilling to climb." 

Tommy just smiled. 

~ 

His dreams for the next two months slowly subsided, every ounce of his being too wrapped up in his friendship with Mary and their constant get togethers. Even Alex, the most oblivious person to ever walk this earth, actually commented that they spent a lot of time together over dinner one night, and Tommy grinned because yes, yes they did. He had found his own light at the end of the tunnel and he was grasping onto it for dear life. 

Mary came over for dinner the night after that, her hair wrapped gracefully in two swirled victory rolls along her hairline, the rest of it curling softly around her pale neck and shoulders. When she smiled at Alex and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek softly, her mauve lipstick left behind a stain against his reddened cheek and Tommy chuckled at the look on his face. He knew Alex wanted to dislike Mary and he also knew he couldn't bring himself to. 

Everything went quite alright, they had a very interesting conversation about women and work life, where Mary voiced her opinion that equal pay should be a given in a modern society like theirs, whereas Alex snorted and nodded along, smiling playfully at her whenever he'd make a crude comment just to rile her up a bit. She ended up chucking a piece of carrot at him, eyes glimmering with affection and Tommy loved this for some reason, two people he cared about developing a relationship just like that. 

"I can't believe you, Alexander! You're just like your father, I swear," she lets out an exasperated sigh and wipes at her mouth with her napkin, lipstick smearing across her cheek along with some gravy from the meat, the natural pink of her lips shining through underneath the waxy substance. Alex just shrugged and leaned back in his chair, rackety wood protesting weakly underneath his weight. 

"I hate to break it to you, love, but men are obviously the superior sex. We work hard for our money, and we fuckin' deserve it. Ain't that right, Tommy boy?" He slaps down a hand onto Tommy's shoulder with such force that Tommy nearly pulls away, his eyebrow raised in amusement as Alex starts clearing their plates away, his large frame disappearing into the kitchen. Tommy found it entertaining to watch the two quarrel like siblings, only now realising how much they resembled one another, and isn't that a funny coincidence? Tommy sure as hell thinks so. 

"I honestly don't know how you could love this man, Thomas, he's an absolute monster," she sighs, propping a cigarette between her lips and lighting it, her soft inhale the only sound as the two of them settle down, soft clanking of dishes being washed emitting from the kitchen. Tommy just smiled at her and shrugged, reaching up to unbutton the top buttons of his white shirt as the heat from the fireplace finally overbears him. 

"He's quite lovely one on one, I suppose," Tommy knew Alex was acting like a dick just for show, like he always did, considering that he voiced his opinions on equal pay only a few days earlier where he clearly stated that "without women, the world would be in ruins" and Tommy felt like a proud mother hen in that very moment. Deep down, Alex was fucking amazing and Tommy wished everyone could see it. 

When Mary peeked at her pocket watch and deemed that she should be going home, Alex was the first to wrap an arm around her waist and land a fat kiss to her cheek, his cheeks ruddy with laughter and alcohol as he bid her goodnight and helped her slip into her coat. She offered him a smile and a playful pinch to the side, ordering him to "get back to the kitchen where he belongs" whilst Alex laughter ricocheted through the apartment. He clapped Tommy's shoulder once more before returning to his dishwashing, the static of the radio muting the clattering noises. 

"You were right," Tommy turned to face a smiling Mary, her hands clasped together at her front with her purse slung across her shoulder, her lipstick slightly smudged at the edges and her hair a frilly mess along her back. Unlike Barb, she took a look at herself in the mirror and laughed it off. "He's a lovely man, Thomas, he truly is." 

Tommy wanted to cry then as he nodded in agreement, hugging her goodbye before seeing her to the door, her lips pressing to the shell of his ear with a quiet giggle, hand grasping at his shirt. 

"And I think he likes you, too." She disappeared into the night with her tan, suede coat flowing around her legs and her black hat perched atop her head. Tommy waved after her with a warm feeling in his gut and a large smile on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this shit is nearly a week late and I'm so sorry. I struggled with it a bit, and I'm still not completely satisfied, but I feel like this is it, and it's not perfect, but it's fine. I hope you like it more than I do, thank you for all continued support. Love youuuu.

Tommy felt lost after a while as he witnessed the planning of a wedding that would house half of Britain's population, the stress sizzling through every surface in the apartment as Alex ran around, ordering cakes and renting tuxedo's. He felt like their roles were reversed these days, Tommy being the one to sit down in front of the fireplace with a hot cup of tea, reading a book with his glasses perched on his nose. Alex, however, would sit by the kitchen table muttering to himself about chocolate and vanilla or bowties versus normal ties. Tommy kept finding clumps of his hair in the shower drain and was slowly growing anxious. 

He came home from work at 1am, soaking wet with large, flurrying snowflakes littering the dark fabric of his coat, and Alex was sat at his usual spot by the kitchen table. His eyes were red rimmed and sore, his hands woven through the strands of his hair as he read through a few different options for the venue, a bottle of Irish whiskey opened and half empty at his side. He didn't look up when Tommy sat down across from him. 

"You should be in bed, Alex, we've talked about this," Tommy coaxes, carefully wrapping his fingers around each of Alex's wrists to pull his hands away from his hair, a few strands falling into the white paper in front of him. Tommy gulped audibly. 

"Come on, let's go upstairs, yeah?" He didn't really give Alex a choice, just wrapped an arm around him and led him up the stairs one step at a time, the older man dead silent as Tommy helped him out of his clothes. He looked like a ghost as he stood there in his white wife beater and cotton underpants, the circles under his eyes too prominent for his age. He offered Tommy a small smile, wrapping an arm around his neck. 

"Dunno what I'd do without you, Tom," he murmurs against the side of Tommy's head, lips smudging against his temple with a hot puff of air, Alex's fingers weaving through the dark locks at the base of his neck. Tommy's eyes slipped closed, a lump he had fought back for months forming in his throat as he nodded slowly, Alex's five o'clock shadow scratching again the delicate skin of his face. "My saviour, eh?" 

Tommy smiled at him and nudged at his hip, motioning for him to get under the sheets with a wave of his hand. Alex staggered to the foot of his bed before turning to face Tommy again, features laced with worry as a dark wrinkle formed across his forehead. He didn't say anything, he just bore his eyes into Tommy's, the cracked flesh of his bottom lip disappearing between his teeth as he tugged on it, the silence in the room laying upon them like a heavy curtain. He took a step closer and Tommy allowed him. 

"She- Barb, she's great, yeah? She's the perfect one for me, Tom," he mumbled, wiping at his runny nose with the back of his hand, eyes slipping closed for a second as he stumbles. Tommy reaches out to grab his arm, steadying him. "She's so be- she's so pretty, and I should spend my life with her, right?" He pushed at Tom, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he hickuped, grabbing onto the back of Tommy's neck with a sweaty palm, lips pursed in thought, "but all I see is you, Tom, and it fucking kills me." 

The last part is whispered and Tommy almost misses it, but he doesn't. He hears it clear as day as it tumbles out of his drunk roommate's mouth and he wants to cry as Alex pulls at him, beckons him closer in the safe space of their bedroom only months away from marrying a beautiful woman that Tommy despises with all his might. It's all so much, but when Alex noses at his cheek and breathes against his jaw, he allows himself to dig his fingers into the fabric of Alex's shirt, letting out a long, shaky breath. 

"This is so fucking wrong, Alex, you love her-" he cuts himself off, hearing the inevitable break in his voice just as Alex places a warm, dry kiss to the side of his mouth, large hand cupping the side of Tommy's face with surprising care despite his drunkenness. "You can't do this to me," he whispers, angling the focus away from Barbara, his fucking fiancée, onto himself, his roommate and friend, his very male friend. 

"I know, I know, I know," Alex murmurs, mouthing at the corner of his cracked lips before exhaling heavily, the stench of aged liquor and an underlying hint of beer hitting Tommy with a whiff, his nose scrunching slightly. Alex's fingers are sliding around his hips to fan out across the expanse of his lower back, the warmth of his palm bleeding through the thin material of Tommy's button up as he pulls them closer together, every expanse of flesh touching from head to toe. "I'm so sorry, Tom, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault-" he keeps mumbling, Tommy's back hitting the wall of their bedroom with a thud, Alex's fingers venturing up underneath his shirt to slide against the warm skin stretched across his shoulder blades, a whole bodied shudder running through Tommy's limbs. He grabs onto Alex's face tightly and aligns them, the tips of their noses brushing together as Tommy steals back some of the control he lost during the surprising confrontation, teeth biting roughly at his bottom lip as he stares at Alex. 

"You don't wanna do this, Alex, listen to me, yeah?" He presses his fingers against Alex's undoubtedly thrumming temples, a pained noise escaping the older man as Tommy tries to gain his full attention, the heat in the room forcing a drop of sweat to run down his hairline, their warm breaths mingling between them, "On June 18th, you and Barbara are to be married, remember that?" He pushes, referring to Alex's notes scattered across their kitchen table, each invitation hand written by Barb herself with large, loopy letters spelling out the date and location of the event, "She will be your bride, and she'll wear your mother's wedding dress and she will be everything you ever thought you wanted and it will all be okay-" he shakes Alex's shoulders as the larger man lets out a heavy, heart wrenching sob, pushing his face into Tommy's neck as tears gather in his bloodshot eyes, fingers rubbing at the bruising forming underneath his eyes from sleep deprivation. "Do you hear me, Alex? It's going to be okay." 

It takes a while for Alex's sobs to subdue, the fabric of his shirt stained with puddles of tears just like Tommy's, his face bright red and puffy as he slides to the floor and settles against the flower-patterned wallpaper on their walls and lets out a deep sigh, his voice shaking with exhaustion and thickness from the excessive crying. Tommy slides onto the floor in front of him and pushes up against his side, resting his arm over the broad shoulders of his roommate and places a kiss to his temple, tasting of sweat and hair gel. He intertwines their fingers and rests them on Alex's thigh, listening to the soft sounds of Alex's breathing evening out, a soft squeeze to his hand signalling that Alex was thanking him, and with a soft squeeze back he offered him a careful 'you're welcome'. 

They sat together for fifteen minutes, Alex's head eventually dropping onto Tommy's shoulder, his dark curls flopping across Tommy's face in a sticky mess, and Tommy reached up to brush them down with fond sweeps of his hand, wrapping his arm tightly around Alex's neck to hold him close, singing the soft words of a lullaby against the shell of his ear. Alex sniffled quietly and moved to look up at him. 

"I'm fuckin' sorry, Tom," he mumbles, voice quiet and unrecognizable with tears as he pushes his nose against the soft, shaved skin of Tommy's cheek, a hand stained with dirt and oil from labour work coming up to settle at Tommy's throat, fingers caressing the pale, unmarked skin there in wonder, "I can't stop thinkin' about this, you know? I can't stop thinkin' about Dunkirk and all the shit that went down, and I can't stop thinkin' about you," he whispers the last part as he cups the side of Tommy's face, calloused thumb sliding across a red, blossomed bottom lip, tongue darting out to moisten the flesh as Alex moves closer, roams his eyes across Tommy's face, his clenched jaw and his reddened cheeks, hazel eyes glazed over with emotions he didn't think he'd ever see returned back at him, and Alex offers him a careful smile, "I thought I was fuckin' crazy, losing my mind and shit. But it's just you, you fuckin' idiot," he murmurs, placing another soft kiss to the corner of Tommy's mouth, still not daring to let their lips meet in an actual kiss, brain still beating around the bush despite the returned emotions he was currently experiencing, Tommy's body lax and submissive in his hold. 

"All along, it was you." 

Tommy feels like screaming, feels like grabbing onto the ends of his hair and tugging it all out, watching it fly away in the tickling breezes like a symbol of every ounce of control he had ever felt over his body, all of it crashing and burning as soon as Alex leans down to push their mouths together in an open mouthed, shaky kiss, neither of them really sure how to respond as they move together, align their bodies to fit together easier with Tommy straddling Alex's strong thighs, their size difference suddenly blaringly obvious as Alex's arms consume him. He lets out a strangled noise, something akin to a sob lazed with a speck of laughter, weaving his fingers through Alex hair and deepening their kiss, tears running down his cheeks and smudging against Alex's chin, arms circling his narrow waist to grab at him and hold him close, not releasing their tight grip. Tommy inevitably pulls back for air, pressing their foreheads together as a wave of guilt washes over him, throat convulsing as he gulps down large breaths of air. Alex watches him closely, comforts with a silent press of his fingers against Tommy's ribs as if he's telling him to not overthink it, to just stay with him right here in their bedroom, their safe space. Tommy fails miserably at it. 

He climbs off of Alex, nerves thrumming in anticipation and fright, body curling in on itself as he shakes his head, wiping furiously at his mouth with the back of his hand. It feels like his body and his lungs suddenly forgot to work together, forgot that they're supposed to keep each other going by cooperating, his breaths too shallow and hurried to really keep him alive. 

"We can't do this, Alex, you can't-" he registers Alex moving towards him as he hiccups through the wrecking cries erupting from his chest, feels the warmth of hands grabbing at his elbows to pull him to his feet, a hushed voice cramming words of reassurance into his ears as he sobs loudly, none of the words properly sinking in, just floating around in empty space before disappearing, stowed away by his brain. Each sob is so raw, it claws its way through his throat and voices itself in the form of a raspy, hoarse cry, eyes clouded over with unshed tears as he pushes his face against Alex's chest, the warmth of him comforting and familiar, and when Alex manages to wrap him up in his arms and crawl into Tommy's bed with him, Tommy appreciates the closeness of his roommate more than ever, allows himself to settle his clammy forehead against one of Alex's tattooed swallows, silence settling between them. His body starts dozing off, and he barely registers Alex climbing out of his bed to settle into his own, and the little sliver of consciousness he has left aches with the loss of him for a brief second before he falls asleep, eyelids fluttering closed just as Alex blows out the candle and sends the room into complete darkness. 

"Night, Tom."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this feels rushed and idk if I like it, but it's too late for my brain to function and do anything about it sooooo, I guess this is it hahah. Hope you enjoy, love you all.

"The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping 

I dreamed I held you in my arms 

But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken 

So I hung my head and I cried" 

Tommy knew those words, knew them by heart as a picture of his mother morphed from the darkness in front of him, a delicate hand stroking across his features as the familiar lullaby travels through him. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, the echo of her raspy, soft voice so delicate and pure, her face pulled into a loving smile as she ran her fingers through his hair. Her dark hair flowed across her narrow shoulders in thick waves, chipped fingernails scratching slightly at his scalp as she hummed the melody through the white noise of the empty. Tommy felt like he was being tugged in several directions, one being his certain death for the first time in months, and the other being his mum and the familiar smell of her, the warmth of her as she'd hold him to her chest and lull him to sleep. 

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine 

You make me happy, when skies are grey" 

He could feel the tears dripping down his cheeks as the intense vibrations shook through his bones, grabbed onto him and attempted to peel him away from the safeness he felt, from the familiar singing of his mother by his bedside. He trashed around in the tight hold, wanted back to the calm feeling and away from the cold that awaited beneath, away from the death he feared so much. 

"You'll never know, dear, how much I love you 

Please don't take my sunshine away" 

Her voice died out, the traces of her curling across the black surface like white smoke before disappearing, destroyed by the hands of his killer as the water envelops him, swallows him down and pierces through him in the cold like a thousand pointy knives, pained whimpers falling from his lips as he's consumed, Alex's green eyes glittering amongst the deep nothing in such a soothing manner, soft eyelashes fanning across his cheeks and deep dimples winking at Tommy, and he feels helpless as he finds himself in his hold, slowly dying out by the hands of the highlander he put so much trust into, one last breath leaving him with a trail of bubbles floating towards the surface. 

~ 

Tommy felt like hitting something really hard with a sharp rock as Mary leaned across the coffee table, placing down her beverage with a soft clank in the otherwise quiet room, birds whistling outside the window. April had rolled around last week, snow melting off the climbing branches of trees, streets busy once more as people finally left their cramped apartments to enjoy the approaching spring. Tommy could see Alex out by the butcher shop, arm wrapped tightly around Barbara's waist as they picked out a suitable piece of meat for dinner, her tan suede coat whipping in the soft breeze. Tommy clenched his jaw tightly as sipped at his tea, attention floating back to Mary. 

"So... okay, so what you're saying is that, Alex, your very straight roommate who's getting married to a pretty blonde in June just up and kissed you like, two months ago?" She looked at him with a hard stare mixed with a hint of confusion and some annoyance, hands gripping tightly onto the armrests of the old chair as she sighs heavily, Tommy's face beet red as he nods yes. She fixated her dark eyes on him and chewed on her bottom lip in thought. 

"I can't believe you didn't tell me sooner, Thomas, we ought to celebrate this," she reasons, grinning toothily at him through the gaps of her teeth as she raises herself up from the chair, pulling a small flask from her blouse and handing it over to Tommy. When he doesn’t react, she flicks it open and takes a deep gulp of the liquor, grimacing at the taste before motioning for him to do the same, settling down into the worn-down couch next to him with a pillow covering her lap. 

"What- Mary, no, don't you get it? He kissed me, not the other way around," he reluctantly accepts the flask and swallows down two large gulps, coughing into his clenched fist as the taste burns its way down the length of his throat, making tears spring to his eyes. She gives him a look, one with her eyebrows pulled into a confused frown and her teeth chewing on her bottom lip, seemingly not grasping Tommy's point as she takes another sip, smacking her lips at the sweetness of the whiskey. 

"He's getting married to, quote, 'a pretty blonde', in June, and he kissed me. And now, two fucking months later, he's still getting married," she shifts in her seat and seems deep in thought as her shoulders sag, chipped fingernail coming up to pinch at the flesh of her bottom lip. 

"He didn't choose me, Mary." 

She's quick to put the flask away and move closer to him, wrapping her slim arms around his neck to pull him closer and press an affectionate kiss to his cheek, thumbing at the bags under his eyes with her fingertips, so smooth and soft unlike Alex's. His chest wells up with a wave of stinging pain, and he struggles not to cry as she shushes him, a careful smile ghosting over her lips as she places his head down on her shoulder and proceeds to stroke her fingers through his hair. 

"He will eventually, Thomas." 

~ 

Alex came home from work later that evening, work clothes covered in black soot and remains of oil, and when he poked his head into the living room to look for Tommy, Mary gave him a tentative wave from her position on the couch. Tommy was laid out across her lap, clutching onto the fabric of her skirt as he slept restlessly, a deep frown carved out across his forehead as his eyelids fluttered. She beckoned Alex closer, smiling at the dishevelled state of him as he carefully lifted Tommy's legs and slid onto the couch, hand stroking fondly over the younger lad's calf. The room was quiet, a heavy feeling coating the walls as silence stretched out between them. 

"How was work?" She whispers, caressing the top of Tommy's head, eyes trained on Alex. He didn't know how to answer it, having broken down into his first panic attack in ages after seeing the factory covered in thick oil and smelling strongly of gunpowder. His co-workers explained there had been an incident but Alex didn't react. He had slid to his knees with his head clutched tightly in his hands, screaming at the top of his lungs as everything around him transformed into France, wood floorings morphing into sand and the strong smell of oil igniting memories of dead soldiers and water, so much fucking water. 

She reached out to touch his hand, run her fingers along the dry skin of his knuckles before squeezing gently, bringing him away from 1940 and back into 1946. 

"It was fine," he answers quietly, smiling reassuringly at her. She doesn't believe him, that much is obvious from her look alone, but she doesn't comment on it as she watches Alex run his fingers over the knob of Tommy's ankle, a dust of goose bumps appearing on the young man's arms as he twitches in his sleep, pushing his legs towards Alex's hands. She watches the affection in Alex's eyes, smiles to herself as she recalls the same look on her own face whenever she spent time with her love all those years ago, the green of his eyes muted and soft as he watches Tommy sleep. 

"He told me what happened." 

Alex immediately stiffens, the stroking motions across Tommy's legs coming to a halt as he looks over at her, eyes wide and nearly scared, she realizes, and she reaches across Tommy to grab his arm, shaking her head carefully. His eyes turned cold for a second and she could see the moment where he swallowed down heavily, Adam's apple bobbing ominously before he looked down at Tommy's sleeping face. 

"He shouldn't have," he mumbles, and he hates how broken and tired he sounds as he mutters the words, but he knows it's the truth. No matter how much he adored Mary, and he really did, Tommy should've shut his mouth. He can feel Tommy's toes curling into the flesh of his thigh, thick, woollen socks slipping across the heel of his foot, and Alex's throat closes up because he knows he'll lose this, everything he's ever known. The house had already been purchased by Barbara's parents, a ginormous 5-bedroom house not too far from their own house, and Alex hated everything about it. It was too large, too empty as Barbara had excitedly pulled him through the unfurnished spaces, and it didn't smell of burnt toast, cheap cologne or Tommy and he absolutely hated it. 

"Alex." 

The bags under his eyes seem heavier in the dark space, only illuminated from below by the burning fireplace as he looks at Mary, yet he doesn't really look at her as much as he looks through her, the hollow gaze he throws her way ghostly and unrecognizable. She chews roughly on her lip as he gets up from the couch and picks Tommy up as if he weighed nothing, head lolling across Alex's shirt clad shoulder before settling in the juncture between collarbone and neck, nose pressed against the soft skin there. She smiles carefully and brushes his hair away from his forehead, watching as his nose twitches at the contact and inhales the familiar smell of Alex, fingers wrapping tightly in the fabric of a dirty, smudged work shirt. 

"You should probably get going, it's late," she can hear the dangerous waver of each syllable as he utters the sentence, more of a command than a request, yet she just nods slowly and watches as he carries Tommy up the stairs, each step creaking loudly under his weight. He turns to look at her, balancing Tommy in his arms, and he looks smaller than usual as he stares at her, contemplating on what to say as he shuffles on his feet, uncharacteristically nervous. 

"I wish I could choose him, Mary," he whispers and it's laced thickly with tears, green eyes glowing as a fat tear sneaks its way down his cheek and he grabs onto Tommy tighter, willing himself to calm down as he senses his body becoming acutely aware of his distress, sniffing out his fears like a bloodhound. "In a different life, a different world, perhaps, I would choose him." 

She's right there at the bottom of the stairs, clad in her bright red coat with a pair of black gloves covering her dainty hands, dark eyes glittering as she smiles at him, the nature behind it unintelligible, and she makes quick work of pinning her hair back. She looks so youthful as she stands there, head cocked and she seems happy as she smiles at him, nodding her head slightly before turning on her heal, leaving the apartment with a soft click from the door as it locks itself. 

He's left there on the staircase with Tommy in his arms, a heavy sensation in his gut and a lump in his throat that he can't seem to rid himself of. He wraps Tommy up in a heap of blankets and dusts a soft kiss across his forehead before getting in bed, not bothering with blowing out the candle as he watches the orange sheen dance across Tommy's sharp features, illuminating the speck of freckles that line the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He hates that he caused that face pain, that his action and his recklessness caused suffering because as Tommy lies there he realises he would never be alive if it wasn't for this boy and his bravery, and he cries as he realises that he's caused pain to the one person who caused him nothing but happiness and it stings. He watches him sleep, watches the peace written across the features of his face, a soft cut in his bottom lip plumping up the flesh and it shines under the beam of the candle. He looks so young and innocent, Alex thinks, and he props his head up on his pillow just as the clock strikes 23:00. 

He falls asleep when the flame goes out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so, soooo sorry, this took ages to write. I didn't know what to do, and I was supposed to write the wedding and all that crap, but then I realised that I had planned it waaay to well, so I couldn't really write it properly, so I just ended up skipping in time and it's super weird, but I still hope you like it. Oh, and if you have name suggestions for the little ones, I appreciate it, because all I can think is Edward, Christopher and Annabelle and I can't do that shit again ahahah. I love you all, thanks for your patience.

**December 6th, 1950, four years later**

Tommy could feel the contents of his stomach sloshing around as he stumbled his way into the bathroom, kneecaps hitting the tiled floorings with an uncomfortable crunch as he bends over the toilet, groaning loudly. His voice ricochets through the toilet bowl and travels back into the bedroom, echoing through the empty apartment. He felt like he was dying as he hurled liquor, bar food and burnt toast into the toilet, stomach constricting painfully with every surge. He could hear Mary snickering quietly at him from her position on the bed, her face pushed messily into the fabric of his duvet, and he mustered up enough energy to flip her off through the doorway, quickly bracing himself on the toilet seat as another round of bile forced itself out of his mouth. 

"You really can't hold your fucking liquor, Thomas, oh my God," she laughs, rolling over onto her back and inhaling the smoke from her lit cigarette deeply, her voice raspy and raw from years of smoking and an evening of heavy drinking. She could hear Tommy's weak protests from the bathroom, but they were muffled and pathetic, which made her smile widely. 

"Fuck off, Mary, I totally can," he murmurs, resting his clammy forehead against his arm as the uncomfortable surging sensation in his gut finally settled, his mouth filled with the horrid, sour taste of puke, and he gagged quietly. It didn't go unnoticed by Mary, who barked out a loud laugh. 

"I can tell, you're doing a great job," she muses. 

He barely manages to get back onto his feet, his vision blurry at the edges as he stumbles to grab onto the doorframe, stomach gurgling ominously. His fingers are making quick work of the buttons of his shirt, chin tucked against his chest and brows furred in concentration at the task, but Mary's quick to slide off the bed and push his hands away, unbuttoning it for him. In the back of his head, it reminds him of all the times he did the same for Alex, and his chest aches painfully. 

"It's been like, four years or something," he slurs, body collapsing onto the springy mattress, his face digging into the old, lumpy pillow, "he didn't even say goodbye, just fucking..." He hiccups briefly into the soft material, "just fucking up and left. That's not nice, is it? It's really not nice..." His murmurs slowly die out, body going limp against the mattress. 

Mary looks over at him, expression unreadable as she helps him out of his clothes, folding up the wrinkly material and placing it into his wardrobe. She had drunk a considerable amount less than Tommy, and as she felt herself sobering up she realised he was talking about Alex. 

"He's an asshole, babe, forget about it," she answers truthfully, keeping a firm grip around the bony flesh of his elbow to help him slip under the covers, his bare chest exploding in goose bumps as the cool fabric of his duvet makes contact with it. 

"You should get some sleep, yeah? I'll be over in a few days, I've got some business to do back in London," she leans down to kiss his forehead, chipped fingernails dragging through the soft strands of his hair as she listens to his breathing even out, eyelids fluttering as he succumbs to the heavy sleep tugging on his limbs. After gathering her things and fixing her makeup quickly, she leaves the apartment and locks the door after her. 

~ 

Maybe it was the insistent wind pulling at the fabric of his curtains as it sped past the window, rustling noisily in the quiet room, or maybe it was the neighbour's dog barking into the night, or perhaps even a taxi unloading a group of intoxicated people heading home after a night they would undoubtedly regret tomorrow; the point is, something woke Tommy up. 

His wristwatch ticked 3:35 and his body felt like lead, sinking into the softness of his mattress as he writhed on the fresh sheets, blinking blearily into the dark room. It was cold, the window having blown wide open during the night as the wind picked it up, slamming and rattling noisily against the brick walls outside as Tommy reached out to pull it shut, drawing the curtains once he's done. He stops to look out the window with a heavy frown on his face, wrapping his arms around his naked body before turning back to his bed, rubbing his knuckles over the crusted seams of his eyes as he yawns loudly. Just as he crawls back into bed, an impatient ringing noise from the doorbell downstairs stops him dead in his tracks, and he realises just what woke him up. 

He pulled on whatever clothes he found lying around, ending up with just wrapping himself up in the fluffy, navy blue robe Mary gifted him for his birthday, slipping out of the coldness of his bedroom and into the suffocating heat of his apartment, cursing out Mrs. Brown for having the fire crackling throughout the night, even after he had specifically told her to stop, stumbling down the stairs in the darkness. He reached out to flick the lights on, listening to them sputtering to life and ignite the hallway in a hideous, yellow hue, eyes squinting as he inspects the silhouette of someone outside the door. Broad shouldered and fairly tall, the person reached over to ring the doorbell once more, what appeared to be a large fur coat with a high collar perched over said shoulders tightly. Tommy slowly inched closer, reaching out to twist the doorknob and open the door, chain link rattling as it's pulled at. 

The light from the hallway only manages to cast a strip of light across the stranger's throat, unshaven jawline sharp and defined with unruly hair growth, face turning to reveal large front teeth digging into the flesh of a rosy bottom lip. Tommy frowns deeply. 

"Can I help you?" 

The stranger reacts suddenly, stepping up to the door with a hand braced at the doorframe, face leaning in to catch the light and Tommy nearly hits the ground when he stares into a familiar pair of emerald eyes through the narrow gap. He hears himself inhale sharply, the crass sound of air being sucked through his dried lips making him twist his head slightly and huff. 

"I, uh..." That deep, rumbling voice never failed to send waves of electric chills down the length of Tommy's spine, and he could feel tears pressing at the back of his eyelids, "Tom, I really need your help." 

The words are rushed and quiet, whispered into the space between them like a well-kept secret, the warmth of his breath fanning out over Tommy's face. He hesitates, with good reason, shuffling on his feet before clicking the door shut, his forehead leaning against the doorframe as he takes a minute to calm himself. The tears kept pushing on, forming a thick lump at the base of his throat as he fights them away, knuckles whitening as they grip the doorknob roughly. 

"Tom, please," it's so quiet Tommy struggles to distinguish whether it came from the other side of the door or from deep inside his head, the words echoing through him like a loud, ringing chime, and with shaky fingers he reaches up to slide the chain link open, stepping back as the door slowly swings open to reveal Alex in all his glory, thick woollen mittens covering his large hands and a long, cosy scarf wrapped around the expanse of his neck and he's looking straight at Tommy, the edges of his eyes carved with the curving figures of crow's feet, the lines of his mouth accentuated from his years as a smoker. He looked just like Tommy remembered. 

"What the fuck are you doing here," he whispers, less of a question and more of a demand, a harsh sentence spoken between pursed lips as he steps closer, grips the edge of the door as he prepares himself to slam it in his face, jaw set tightly. Alex's expression fell considerably, hands clasped together as he lowers his gaze onto the 'welcome' mat outside the door, the one he had picked out himself after Tommy had reluctantly agreed to let him move in, and he seemed to struggle with himself for a minute as he flicked his eyes everywhere but Tommy. He was hesitating, considering his options, and when Tommy grabbed the door and got ready to slam it shut, he finally made his decision by stepping forward, inching into Tommy's personal space to keep the door open, one large palm pressing against the cold glass. 

"You should go, Alex. Please, just leave," he pushes at the door, silently begs the older man to crawl back to the gutter he came out of and never come back, but just as he went to turn around and let the door slam shut, a small head of curly, caramel coloured hair pinned up in two neat little ponytails peeked out from behind Alex's large frame, emerald eyes wide and frightened and so familiar. A pink, rounded pacifier was pulled from between her puffy lips, and Tommy went completely stiff as she pulled at Alex's long coat, eyes still fixated on Tommy. 

"Dada, dada," she mumbled, speech slurred and edged with sleep, and from the way she was rubbing her eyes with the chubby knuckles of her hand, Tommy figured she'd been awoken in a hurry. Alex reached a hand behind himself to place a protective hand over the back of her head, stroking her soft curls. 

"Go watch your brother, baby. Let Daddy talk to the man, okay?" He turned to face her and crouched down, only to reveal a baby stroller stuffed full of thick, white blankets, cocooning the shape of a small child clutching a stuffed bear between tiny fingers and Tommy thought he might faint, the edges of his eyes blurring as he drags a hand across his face roughly, the sound of dry skin against unshaven skin uncomfortable and crass. Alex stood to face him again, didn't say anything as he slipped his mittens off and pulled a hand through the greasy mess of hair on his head, watching Tommy with a tense yet soft look, fingers twitching as he struggles to say something, anything. But Tommy's attention has switched from the man he hasn't seen in years and onto the small creatures at his doorstep, all messy curls and big eyes and Dunkirk beach, and Tommy looks up at Alex, biting at the flesh of his bottom lip as he steps aside, silently allowing them to enter the apartment with his eyes trained to the chipped, wooden floors. Alex gathers the toddler in his arms and manoeuvres the stroller into the hallway as quietly as possible, and Tommy was left standing there alone for a few seconds, eyes distant and cold before he flicked his wrist subtly, pushing the door shut with a click.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dudes, this chapter is kinda long. Oh, and it's so cute it makes my brain turn to mush. Good luck, champs.

Sitting across the room from the hunched over shape of an aged Alex felt like tearing down every sturdy, brick wall Tommy had ever built for himself, knocking each one down one by one as he places down a cup of steaming hot cocoa, watching the small twitch at the corner of Alex's mouth. It felt like progress, Tommy having grabbed the very same tin can Alex had left behind all those years ago to whip up beverages for the two of them, and he offered Alex a soft smile as he sat down. 

"Thanks, Tom," he mumbles, wrapping his bright red fingers around the warm ceramic to warm them up, his body relaxing into the couch as an awkward silence settles between them. 

Tommy couldn't help but to think that he looks like a different man, dressed in a pair of tight fitting trousers with a wide, brown leather belt looped around his hips, the fleshy part of his abdomen pushing against the buttoned-up shirt stretching around his waist, some of the buttons buttoned wrong. The hair atop of his head was shorter than Tommy was used to, nearly short enough to bring back memories of screaming soldiers and airplane engines whirring in the wind, and when he reaches up to brush his fringe away he looks so young despite the obvious aging in the lines of his face, and even with all the pent up anger and confusion Tommy felt towards him, he wanted to hug him so bad. He wanted to reach out and smooth the pads of his fingers over the puffy, sore bags under his eyes and to kiss along his bloodshot eyelids, get a good whiff of the same cologne he remembered from four years ago. He wanted him back. 

"What happened, Alex?" Tommy tries his best to not let the words sound unnecessarily crass, and considering the tight frown settling across Alex's forehead he did an okay job, the older man shifting in his seat to place the mug back onto the coffee table, muscles tense with every movement he made. He was hesitating, Tommy realised, judging by the constant movement of his lips as he tried to figure out what to say, his eyes flickering around the room yet seeing nothing, nothing but the words whirring around in his brain. Tommy itched to get up and sit down next to him, stroke a hand across those tense shoulders and whisper that everything would be okay, but every move he made caused Alex to nearly flinch back, so, he refrained. He waited, like a man taming a beast, danced along the edges of the cage instead of pouncing towards the nervous predator, lurking in the dark. 

"Tom, it's- it's really late, okay? I'll tell you everything, I promise, but I just need to sleep," he sounds broken as he mutters the sentence, leans forward to prop his elbows against his kneecaps, thumbs pressing into the sockets of his eyes. Tommy studied him warily, coughed awkwardly into a clenched fist before nodding, getting up from his seat with ease. As he stood in front of Alex, the man didn't make an effort to look him in the eye, just kept his head low and covered his face with his hands, and Tommy ached with the need to touch him, to just comfort him for a moment, get a small glimpse into what used to be his life, his everyday routine. He dared reach over to grab Alex's cup, brushing his knuckles against his bicep as he turned to head into the kitchen. 

"You and the kids go ahead and take the bedroom, I'll crash down here." 

At the mention of his children, Alex looked up from the couch and immediately relaxed, eyes glowing softly with the residue of unshed tears as he nods quickly, looking over to where his daughter had curled up in a foetus position atop the bay window seat, soft curls dancing across the dark purple cushion and spilling over the edge. The sigh he let out was heavy hearted and filled with sadness, and when Tommy sat down next to her and curled a strand of her hair around his finger, Alex looked like he might combust into a puddle of tears with relief. Tommy understood, just then, how much courage Alex must've mustered up in his mind to even think about ringing his doorbell, how much residual pain it must've stirred awake. 

The small girl smacked her lips noisily as she stretched her legs out across the seat, pacifier dropping to the floor with a thud as she opts to suck her small thumb between her lips instead, suckling it softly. Tommy smiled carefully and smoothed the palm of his hand over her head, the golden locks curling around her heart shaped face and tucking behind her slightly protruding ears, tangling in the shiny metal of an earring. The room fell quiet around them, and Alex finally rose from his seat to check on the baby boy, leaning across the stroller to coo softly at him. 

"William," he sing-songs quietly, looping an arm underneath the infant to lift him out, settling the child against his chest with a protective hand across his back. Tommy watched how Alex's large hand spanned nearly half of the boy, swallowed him up and held him close, and his eyes met Alex's for a brief second. 

"I always called him Billy when Barb wasn’t around, William was just so... snobby, you know?" He voiced it as a question but Tommy felt no need to answer it, happily settling against the window with a hand curled in the toddler's hair, "she never liked Billy, thought it made him sound like a peasant." 

Tommy frowned softly and tipped his head back, felt the cold draft from the window tickle across the back of his neck and trigger an array of goose bumps, the skin rising as the temperature dropped. It was a nice grounding point, the slight pain pinching at his skin keeping his toes curled tightly in his slippers and his body relaxed against the freezing glass, and despite the cold he seemed to heat up a bit inside at the sight of Alex with the baby, his bloody son, those tattooed fingers a lovely contrast to the piercing white onesie the boy was dressed in. Perhaps, in the back of his head somewhere, he was fully aware that the heat he felt was affection, and the fact that his first and only love had finally obtained the one thing in life Tommy knew he had thrived for ever since the war, ever since he nearly got killed and got a good glimpse of what really mattered in life. Tommy recalled all their late-night conversations about marriage and families, and he also recalled how excited Alex got whenever speaking of the possibility of his own offspring, girls with loopy pigtails and big, green eyes and boys with curved dimples lining their chubby cheeks. Or, maybe the heat curling in his gut wasn't just because of the children and Alex, but because they were in their apartment, their personal safe space where they shared everything, first hug, first drunken escapades. First kiss. 

Tommy had to look away from him. 

"I'm sure Billy will grow up to be much more than a peasant." 

The comment pulled a smile from Alex despite the tension and exhaustion burning through his every muscle, and after he managed to lull the boy back to sleep the two of them headed upstairs; Alex with the boy sleeping in the crook of his arm, and Tommy with Charlotte, or Lottie, as Alex persisted, positioned against his chest with her head lolling sleepily against his collarbone, pigtails tickling at his nose. He tucked her into his own bed and didn't miss the glassy wetness in Alex's eyes when he spotted his bed, still untouched ever since he left all those years ago, yet when he turned to bid Tommy goodnight, the man was already leaving the room, the shape of him disappearing down the stairs without a word more, without the need to further say anything. Alex looked after him, contemplating on following him, grabbing onto the skinny expanse of his arm to stop him in his tracks, but he refrained, instead stripping from his clothing to crawl under the sheets. 

He manages to arrange Billy in a heap of blankets on the floor next to his bed, letting his arm hang over the edge to occasionally stroke over a cherub red cheek, fingers feeling every careful breath the baby sucked in. Lottie made a few smacking noises as she repositioned in bed, and the last thing Alex managed to catch before falling asleep himself was the soft glimmer of her eyes slipping open just as his fell shut. 

~ 

**June 18th, 1946**

The sickly-sweet smell of cigars and whiskey was heady and uncomfortable in the large ballroom, people eyeing Tommy with judging looks as he maneuverers his way through the crowd with Mary latched onto his arm. People around here were what Alex had inexplicably called "posh assholes" with a twitch of his nose and a small smirk on his lips, and Tommy made a point to meet each of their eyes as he dragged the intoxicated Mary by the elbow towards the ladies' room. 

The mahogany doors had golden, metal signs drilled into them that spelled out 'ladies' and 'gentlemen' in curved letters, and Tommy didn't miss the gasp he received when he elbowed his way past a middle-aged woman to throw Mary into one of the cubicles, pinning her hair back with his fingers just as she hurls the remains of today's dinner and alcoholic beverages into the toilet bowl. With a careful smile cast towards a woman reapplying her lipstick in the mirror, he turned to check that Mary was okay. 

"Come on, babe, you're okay. Get it all out," he mumbles, words slurring softly at the hints of his own intoxication, and when he caught glimpse of the content spewing from her lips and dripping into the toilet bowl, he nearly joined her on his knees right there. 

"I'm fine, Thomas, I'm o-okaaay," she sways away from the toilet and nearly cracks her skull open on the corner of the cubicle, pulled back just in time by Tommy as a large hiccup and a few drunken giggles fall from her lips. "Let's just go back out, yeah? I wanna party." 

She stumbles back onto her feet and supports her weight on Tommy's shoulder as she makes her way to the sink to scrub the taste of sour bile out of her mouth, smudging the caked makeup around her lips into creases around her nose and chin, but Tommy didn't bother commenting on it as he ordered her to drink some water before they head back out, to which she agreed reluctantly. He wiped at the corners of her mouth with a handkerchief he'd nicked from a gentleman on their way to the bathroom, leftovers of her mascara running along her lash line in clumped smudges which leave behind small streaks of grey as he wipes at them too. When Mary finally decided she'd had enough and grabbed his hands to drag him back onto the dancefloor, Alex bursts through the bathroom door with little to no gracefulness. His face is red and covered in a soft sheen of sweat, collarbones exposed to the dry air of the bathroom due to the five buttons that had been ripped open during the evening, and when his eyes settled on the two of them they darkened significantly, jaw setting tight. 

"What the fuck are you two up to, huh? People are out there, talkin' shit to Barb's family about my roommate and his drunk ass girlfriend," he hisses, looming over the two of them as he walks closer, making sure to lock the door behind him to prevent anyone from slipping in and hearing their conversation. He's pissed, Tommy's not drunk enough to miss out on that, and the slurring of his words suggests that he's not off much better than Tommy or Mary combined. 

"We're having fun, you twat, ever heard of it?" Mary huffs out in response and elbows past him, stumbling out of the bathroom and slamming the door behind herself, leaving Tommy alone with a fuming Alex, the tension in the room building as Alex crowds him up against the wall. 

"You're the one who told me to do this, yeah? Happy days and all that fuckin' shit," Tommy winces at the stench of alcohol laced in his breath and twists his face away, "keep your girlfriend on a fuckin' leash, Thomas, I won't have this shit. Not at my fuckin' wedding." 

He leaves Tommy alone in the bathroom, confused and drunk off his ass. 

~ 

Tommy couldn't help but to smile to himself as he turned over onto his back on the uncomfortable, springy couch in his living room, listening to the sound of little feet shuffling down the stairs. Sock clad and tiny, they scratched against the old, wooden staircase and pattered against hardwood floors, a small head of curls appearing in the doorway, quickly followed by the sight of a round pacifier and chubby fists clutching a teddy bear. They made eye contact as she sidled up to the couch, her eyes wide and curious as she studied him. 

"Daddy's asleep," she mumbles around the rubber, her long, curled eyelashes nearly brushing against the socket of her eyes as she blinks slowly, cocking her head at him like a curious kitten. She clumsily wraps her arms around the bear and hoists him onto the couch, pressing the soft pad of his paw against Tommy's cheek, her lips stretching into a wide smile around the pink pacifier. As the fur brushes against his cheek, he turns to press his lips to it, smiling right at her in the process. 

"You should be sleeping too, shouldn't you?" 

She seems to consider this for a while, a small frown crawling across her features in the most adorable way Tommy had ever seen, her thin eyebrows scrunching together tightly. Tommy hated how much she looked like her mother in that instance, and quickly reached a hand out to flick her nose, reigniting the blinding smile she'd been sporting just a few seconds ago. 

"Don't wanna," she answers curtly, grabbing onto Tommy's arm for leverage as she attempts to lift herself onto the couch next to him, "wanna stay with Tom." 

It's such an innocent demand, but the fondness laced within her words made his throat close up tightly, ringlets of her curls tickling at his nose as she makes herself comfortable next to him, head propped up on his shoulder. The teddy bear is neatly placed on his chest moments later, one of her hands clutching it tightly whilst the other replaces the rubber with her thumb, soft suckling noises getting lost in the space between his shoulder and neck. Peaking down at her, he can see her eyes sliding shut, and, with ease, he slips his arm under her and presses her against his side, feeling every breath she took as a vibration against him. A surge of affection washed over him, and he pulled her closer. 

He could hear in her breathing that she was still awake, the slow yet controlled intakes of oxygen coming out as small huffs against his neck, her small fingers tickling over his chest as she subtly plays with her bear. 

"Daddy said you're a nice man," she states then, not making any move to look at him as she spoke, just happily dragging her poor teddy bear against the steady rise of Tommy's chest, "I think Daddy likes you." 

Tommy wanted to snort at her comment, yet managed to keep it in, chewing at his bottom lip with unusual ferocity, her body starting to go lax against him as sleep loomed over her, eyelids fluttering in attempt to keep her awake, her limbs twitching every now and then as she succumbed, fingers finally letting go of the bear and her head resting heavily against his collarbone. He pressed a firm kiss to her curls and rested his cheek against the apex of her head, fixating his gaze onto the ceiling. 

"I think I like your daddy, too," he mumbles, and five minutes later she rested on her side against his body, leg draped over his hip and drool pooling at the hem of his tee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh, and I also wanted to thank you guys for all the continued support once more, because I'll never stop reading your comments and crying over them because Im pathetic. okay byee.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holyyyy shiiittttt, three weeks. Three fucking weeks, and I should be posting a fucking bible right now to make up for it. However, it's only 3000 words, but like... To me, that's basically a bible ahaha. I'm so sorry guys, I know it took long, and I hope the next few parts don't take that long. This is me trying to wrap it up somehow, but as per usual I have no structure or anything in my stories so it ends when my brain desides it ends. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, I love you all sooo much.

Alex stirred awake shortly after 8am when William started crying beneath him, fat tears running down his ruddy, red cheeks and his lips curling over bare gums, big, blue eyes flickering around the room. He reaches down to stroke a hand over the baby's head, twisting around in the sheets when a bright beam of light shines through a crack in the curtains and burns against his eyes, a quiet groan escaping him. His body felt like lead, heavy against the mattress and aching in all the wrong places, and when he finally opened his eyes, he was faced with an empty bed and his daughter nowhere to be found. He scrambled out of bed, feeling each violent, harsh thud of his heart against his chest, throat constricting tightly as he bends to lift the baby to his chest, hurrying down the stairs. William sobbed in his embrace, head pressed against his father's collarbone as they reach the bottom of the stairs, Alex easily bursting into the kitchen wide eyed, frightened and majorly underdressed. 

Tommy's head whipped up from where he was bent over the table to read the paper, his hair messy and a pair of oval reading glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Across from him was Charlotte, munching on pieces of bread dipped in butter, pigtails askew and her teddy bear perched atop the table next to her. When Alex burst into the kitchen, her big eyes settled on him and a wide grin spread across her cheeks, a pair of dimples popping much like her father's. 

"Daddy!" She singsongs happily, scrambling off the chair to engulf him in an embrace, her short arms reaching around his legs to squeeze him tightly. He runs his fingers through the tangled knots of her hair and smiles in relief, features relaxing at the realization that his daughter was alright, and he watches with a fond look as she reaches for her bear. Tommy hands her the stuffed animal and boops her nose quickly, motioning for her to head into the living room to play. She complies, and with one last kiss blown towards Alex and a soft tug to William's foot, she heads for the living room. Tommy eyes Alex with caution, shifting in his seat and twiddling his thumbs, sliding his reading glasses off and placing them atop the open newspaper, looking so much older than Alex recalls as he rubs at his eyes with the back of his hands. 

"She's beautiful," Tommy finally says something after a long silence, head leaned into the open palm of his hand as he watches Alex, body curled together and tight with tension, each word uttered to Alex laced with uncertainty and a weird sense of guilt. Alex hated the way those big eyes studied him, seemed to look right through him as he stood there with his son, half naked in a kitchen he hadn't been in for five years. He hated how, when he looked at Tommy, he saw a different person. He couldn't recognize the boy, man, seated ahead of him, yet Tommy could still read him like an open book. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alex scolded himself for never striving to be anything more. 

"She looks just like you." 

Tommy's suddenly next to him, looking over his shoulder at Charlotte, who had once more climbed onto the bay window seat, surrounded by some toys she'd pulled into the bag Alex had told her to pack, a series of wooden cars and expensive looking ceramic dolls propped against the window. One chubby hand reached up to brush the mess of curls on her head away as they fell into her eyes and tickled at her small, rounded nose, her body curving in large, dramatic motions as she plays animatedly. Alex looks right at Tommy, feels the warmth of his chest brushing against his shoulder, and he's dying to lay a hand on him, pull him close and mutter unimportant apologies in his ear and make up for all the time he spent chasing after his wife, after the dead end he'd created for himself. He looked into Tommy's hazel eyes, which were still watching his daughter, and he wished they were watching their daughter. He looked away with a clenched jaw, tears burning at the back of his throat. 

"Beautiful?" He whispers then, can't help the curiosity that arose in him at Tommy's statement, and he bounced the baby against his chest as he felt him slowly fall back asleep, head heavy against his collarbone. Tommy swallowed, loudly and heavily enough for it to reverberate through Alex and make the hairs on his arms stand. William mewls softly in his sleep and tangles his short-clipped fingernails against the soft strands at the back of Alex's neck, and Tommy can't help but slide his fingers against the child's sock clad foot, grinning to himself as the limb twitches at his touch. 

"Yeah," he answers quietly, and he doesn't miss the way Alex goes all tense against the doorframe, jaw setting tight and teeth grinding audibly, and Tommy regrets even opening his mouth in that instance. He can almost hear Alex's brain rebuilding all the walls he'd already torn down by ringing his doorbell, like brickwork scraping against each other and the slide of wet cement, each and every piece of stone separated the two of them in a way it always had, probably always would. And with the little strength Tommy had left, he moved closer, settled a soft hand at the ball of Alex's shoulder and slid his fingers up the taut muscles, bare skin soft and warm to the touch. The swallow tattoos on his chest had faded a bit over the years, but the skin still felt the same under his fingertips as he touched the raised flesh, let his breath flow out from between pinched lips. He was on thin ice, thundering across is like a fucking giant, stomping his legs and flailing his arms over the dangerous territory, and he could nearly feel the moment where Alex realised what a mistake he'd made, how much shit he'd stirred up by ringing that fucking doorbell. Except, it never really came. 

Alex just left the kitchen without another word, joined his daughter in the living room and smiled at her as she invited him to play, dismissed the offer with a soft shake of his head and motioned at her brother. The baby's head lolled against his shoulder and drool dripped from his parted lips, and when Alex bent over to place him safely into his stroller, he squirmed around in the enclosed space before settling down, thumb sneaking its way past his lips to rest against his tongue. Alex dresses himself in the mittens he'd placed inside the stroller and turned to his daughter, helping her slip into her jacket and place a thick, wool beanie over her head. While she makes quick work of slipping her boots on and grabbing her toys, Alex turns back to Tommy to motion him closer. 

"We should go for a walk," he says, more of a statement than a suggestion, and Tommy silently agrees. "I've got a lot of explaining to do." Tommy agrees again. 

~ 

The last time Tommy had been to this particular park, he was a six-year-old boy clad in knitted shorts and a thin, wrinkly shirt, a sixpence cap pulled over the thick strands of his hair. It had been summer, he recalls, and his siblings had managed to convince their mother that a trip to the park would be nice, to get out of the house and away from their drunk, violent father. She had been reluctant, but when they arrived, the park was blooming in all the pretty colours of the rainbow, the grass crisp and green and the trees bustling with thick, luscious leaves. His two brothers and three sisters had run off to play on the slide, his oldest brother Jonathan helping their toddler sister Isobel to climb the old, wooden stairs. The smile on his mother's face had been a blessing, and she sat on the bench with their latest edition to the family, Alfie, clutched to her chest. He still considers it one of his favourite days ever. 

Despite that, the park looked way too gloomy for his liking as he and Alex parked the stroller next to a bench, sitting down next to each other to watch Charlotte stumble around in the snow in her adorable boots, her thick jacket buttoned up all the way to her chin and a long, frilly scarf thrown around her shoulders. She cupped her gloved hands together and threw some snow into the air, tilting her head back to watch it fall back down and rain across her face, tongue peeking out to catch the snowflakes. Tommy smiled softly. 

Alex looked the definition of taut, strategically sliding across the bench to create a respectable amount of space between them, his nose bright red and glowing from the cold. Tommy wanted to reach over and yank his scarf up to cover his mouth, but he spoke before Tommy could do so. 

"I don't regret anything." He starts off harsh, and Tommy feels his stomach knot at the realisation that this conversation might hit him a lot harder than anticipated judging by the harsh lines of Alex's face as he looks over at him. His eyes are calm, yet vibrant, the look on his face so serious that a thin wrinkle forms above his eyebrows below the brim of his hat. He brings a hand up to rub at his sore nose, leather gloves undoubtedly scratchy and painful against the sore skin. He doesn't flinch. 

"I've made a lot of shit decisions, Tom, I'll agree to that, but I could never regret my children." He chooses each word carefully, keeping one eye trained on his daughter as he speaks slowly and collected, each word slipping from his mouth with extreme caution. "No matter what, I never will." The look on his face is uncertain, as if he's daring Tommy to question the existence of his children, judge him after all these years for making a decision Tommy forced him to make. 

Tommy nods slowly, tilts his head slightly and buries his nose in the scarf his mother had knitted for him before she passed, plaid in dark green and black from cheap, homemade yarn she bought from their neighbour pre-war. The material was rough and thick in texture, and it made his glasses fog when he exhaled heavily into it. "I would never ask you to, Alex. I don't regret anything, either." 

It's simple and soft, spoken with a sincerity Tommy didn’t know he'd ever possessed, but it seemed to do the trick as Alex's shoulders relaxed visibly, a puff of relief escaping his cracked lips. A short silence stretches between them as Alex seems to think, brain moulding together several stories for him to present to Tommy, several reasons for his behaviour. He ends up speaking the truth, instead. 

"We moved houses, a while back, bought a cottage from a family friend up near the woods. Barb wanted a pool and all that shit, so I just agreed," he starts off carefully, voice tentative and quiet as he drags out his explanation to the max, refusing to meet Tommy's eyes. "She claimed we needed the space, and I didn't question her because I truly did, I needed the fuckin' space." He coughed into his clenched fist. "So, the house had this beautiful yard, right? Flowers everywhere, a heated pool. There was a swing set back there for the kids when they got older, and it was great. She hired a housekeeper for us, and soon afterwards a gardener, because she couldn't be fucked to do the work herself." 

Tommy frowns when he stops abruptly, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat, and he dared move a bit closer when the walls began crumbling, Alex's charade slipping away like melting ice. 

"I never questioned why he came around every other day, 'cause it was a big fuckin' garden, I wouldn't expect the guy to do it all in one go." His voice wavered and his hands clenched tightly at his side as a surge of anger came over him, his jaw set tight. "I walked in on him bending her over the living room couch, and that was fuckin' it," he mumbles then, the embarrassment clear on his face as he speaks. His eyes are glazed over and red rimmed, yet he manages to give Tommy a half smile, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "I just had to leave, Tom, I couldn't deal with that shit. You were the only one I could think of." 

All his walls came crashing down at once, and if it hadn't been for the fact that there were other families nearby, Tommy would've wrapped him up in his arms. 

They sat there on the bench together, a bit closer now than earlier, and Tommy dared to slide his hand over to grasp Alex's wrist, his bare fingers cold against Alex's heated skin. Charlotte was busy making snow angels by the time they looked back over, her beanie laying in the snow next to her as she wriggles around, giggling to herself as snow continues landing on her bright red cheeks, dusting across her blonde hair. At some point, she turned to them and waved, smiling widely with her crooked front teeth showing, and Alex waved back, keeping his hand close to Tommy's. She waves at Tommy as well, and he flushes a deep red at the look Alex gives him when he blows his daughter a quick kiss, watching her stumble around in the snow like the clumsy toddler she is. 

"You're good with her," he comments, his foot sliding across the snow-covered ground to hook around the wheel of the stroller, shaking it softly as William starts whimpering quietly, the shallow movements lulling him back to sleep in an instant. Alex pulls his leg back. "I didn't know you were good with kids." 

Tommy snorts casually and tilts his head, lips pursed as a cold gust of wind hits them, his fingers making quick work of tightening his scarf. Thinking back to his family days, he wasn't all that surprised. He shrugs his shoulders and allows himself to scoot a little bit closer to Alex, the cold stinging at the dry skin of his knuckles and he struggles to put his mittens back on. "I had a large fucking family, I suppose kids just come natural to me." He looks back at Alex with a soft smile and bumps their elbows together, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he suppresses the happiness that washed over him. "Did you know? I had 6 bloody siblings, and they were all just as stubborn as me. My poor fucking mum, bless her soul." He giggles and throws his head back, Alex barking out a slight laugh next to him, and Tommy nearly bursts with joy at the sound, chest aching at the sight of Alex's deep-set dimples and his crooked smile, large front teeth hooked over his bottom lip as he chuckles. He itches to reach his hand out and thumb over the deep dent in his cheek, feel it twitch under his touch with uncertainty, as always, but also with happiness, because he knew Alex liked it when Tommy complimented his dimples, pressed his fingers into them and teased him about them. 

Or, he used to, at least. 

Alex takes a quick look at his wrist watch and tuts, calling Charlotte over with an authoritative yet sweet voice, her curls bouncing all over the place as she sprints over, clothing covered in heavy snowflakes. He grasps her hand and turns to Tommy, his hand lingering on the stroller before pulling back, body stepping aside as if asking Tommy to take over, to walk his son home. Tommy glances at him, his entire body screaming at him for breaking every single boundary he should've set for himself, his fingers grasping the cooling metal handles and pushing forward, listening intensely to the sound of the thick, rubber wheels forcing their way across harsh, uneven ice. Alex clasped both of Charlotte's hands in his own and hoisted her up in the air, her squeals loud and shrieking as she squirmed in his hold, yelling repeatedly for him to 'do it again' as they headed back home. 

"Hey! We should grab some food, yeah? I know this amazing place, just down the street." Tommy looks over at Alex's excited face and nods quickly, a small smile ghosting over his lips. Charlotte cheers loudly at the mention of food and pulls Alex along. "It's on me." 

Tommy doesn't know if he imagines Alex's hand ghosting over the small of his back to tug him along, but he quickly brushes the thought away and follows the two of them dutifully, chuckling softly at Charlotte's continuous chatter about what she wanted to eat for lunch. Alex nodded along to her babbling with a wide grin on his face, and with a quick motion he hoists her up to rest on his hip, his lips pressing against the red flesh of her cheek. His fingers tickle across her belly, which pulls a rolling laughter from her. "You can have whatever you want, babe." 

She throws her hands up in the air and cheers once more, wrapping her arms around Alex neck to press a kiss to his cheek in return. "Thank you, Daddy." She mumbles against the skin of his cheek, his short stubble scratching at her cheek as she relaxes in his arms, her messy curls cascading down her back as she lays her head down on his shoulder. "You're the best." 

Tommy's heart swells in his chest, and he takes a few seconds to watch the duo, Alex's arm wound tightly under her bum to keep her pressed to his side, his other hand keeping a firm hold of her knee to keep it pressed to his abdomen. Her hand wounds its way into the curly locks at the back of his head, her blonde strands a contrast to his chocolate brown ones, yet they blended so well together. 

"You coming?" 

Tommy looks up at Alex, who's stopped and turned to wait for him, Charlotte sucking happily on her thumb as she watches Tommy as well, her eyes soft with sleepiness. Alex is wearing the same soft look, his head slightly tilted to rest atop his daughter's, lips pressed to her soft curls. Tommy nods slowly and chuckles, pushing the stroller ahead of him to follow them. 

"Yeah."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord Almightly, this took me soooo long. I'm really sorry, I've been wanting to update for weeks, but after seeing Harry in concert (aadfghjkl) and then just struggling to concentrate on this fic for so long, it was kinda impossible. I wish it was longer, but I'm currently trying to figure out to wrap this fic up considering it's just becoming too hard for me to write it, so it might take some time for me to post, but believe me, I'm trying.   
> The part written in italics is a flashback to Alex and Barbara's wedding, if that was unclear to anyone. Hope you enjoy, thanks for the continued support and love.

Tommy found himself cooking in the kitchen by the time Alex came back downstairs after a hefty night time routine with the kids. His pot of homemade stew with vegetables and some leftover meat bubbled on the stove, and he stirred it quietly with a spoon as Alex nearly fell into one of the dining chairs, his head tipping back to thud against the window. Tommy gives him a careful smile when their gazes meet, which Alex returns half-heartedly. Tommy stirs some more. 

"She really didn't wanna sleep," he muses, bringing the spoon up to his lips with a big lump of jiggly stew balanced on it, sipping the mixture quickly and hissing at the slight burn. He dumps a large pinch of salt into the pot and mixes it in with slow movements, watching the little crystals disappear into the dark liquid. "I probably shouldn't have fed her that third ice cream, huh? Sorry." 

Alex snickers quietly and shakes his head from his position in the chair, carding his fingers through the unruly mess of hair on his head in slow, deliberate movements. After their dinner out last night he'd decided to shave his face, and the man seated at the table looked so much like the young, confused soldier Tommy had pulled out of the water ten years ago that he nearly couldn't look at him, just kept his eyes mostly trained on his bubbling food. Alex shifted in his seat and slung one leg over the other, smooth chin supported by the heel of his hand as he leans against the table top. 

"No, she's always been a bit of a bugger gettin' into bed, to be fair. Barb was always too nice on her, let her run around and shit instead of being firm," he mumbles, voice going silent and sad at the mention of his wife's name, and Tommy slows his stirring to a near stop to peak over at the older man, pursing his lips tightly. Just at the mere mention of her name he felt anger bubbling in his gut, the thought of her screwing around with another man behind Alex's back enough for him to grip the wooden spoon just a tad harder, his left hand supporting his weight as he leans against the counter, eyes burning a hole into his stew. He slides it off the oven with a loud, uncomfortable screech, filling up two bowls to the very brim. The conversation dies down to nothing as they eat their food across the table from one another, yet the distance between them resembled one of an ocean, deep and dark and undiscovered, so calm looking yet wild and treacherous. His left-hand rests next to his bowl, fingers twitching every now and then as a loud sound would echo through the apartment, delivery folks dropping a heavy package or someone yelling at their friends, drunken people passing out along the pavement. While his fingers twitch, Alex's eyes flinch, and a momentary thought of how truly fucked up they both are flows to mind. Tommy scoops up a large portion of stew and shoves it in his mouth, chewing down on the mushy vegetables and overcooked meat. 

At 21:53 William wails his poor heart out, waking up Charlotte in the process, and Tommy is quick to place a hand over Alex's when he sees the stressed look on his face, offering to run upstairs and calm them both down. Alex nods slowly, unsurely, his tired eyes gleaming underneath the yellow kitchen light, and he watches Tommy run up the stairs with a soft smile ghosting his lips. 

Charlotte is upright in bed with her fists rubbing vigorously at her eyes when Tommy enters, her small body wrapped up in the sheets and her sleepwear hitched up to her armpits. Tommy wraps the wailing infant up in his arms, tucking his soft, blue blanket underneath his head to prop it up against the inside of his elbow, and with a soft kiss to his forehead and a few whispered words, he feels the child relax against his chest. Charlotte eyes him curiously as he sits down next to her, and she takes the opportunity to get on her knees and peak at her baby brother, chubby fingers stroking over his soft, red cheeks. 

"Momma never let me touch him," she whispers, voice quiet and sad as she watches William suckle on his pacifier, the blue plastic bobbing in and out between his lips as he sinks back into unconsciousness, and she bends down to place a careful kiss to the top of his head. He twitches in Tommy's arms, stubby legs stretching out and settling comfortably in his lap, his soft, fuzzy onesie tickling at his thigh. "She said I could hurt him." Her big eyes looked up at Tommy, long, curly lashes blinking sleepily at him, and he reaches over to poke her nose carefully, watching a wide smile unfurl across her small face, deep dimples carving their way through her cheeks. 

"I know you'd never hurt him, babe," he whispers back, barely registering Alex's frame moving towards them from his position in the doorway, only reacting when a hand lands heavily on his shoulder and squeezes carefully. He looks up in time to catch Alex's fond smile directed at his son, long curls falling across his face as he reaches a hand over to rub his fingers over a small foot, stroking it between his thumb and forefinger. "And I know your Daddy thinks so, too." 

Alex squeezes his shoulder once more, fingers daring to graze over a slip of bare skin at the base of his neck, short clipped fingernails catching the small hairs along his hairline with soft tugs. Tommy unconsciously leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed as Alex's body presses against his back, warm and solid, fingers barely brushing underneath the hemline of his shirt. Charlotte busies herself with her teddy bear, clutches it tightly to her chest and sings a quiet lullaby to herself, the words raspy and choppy from sleep, and Tommy tucks the covers up to her chin, smiling at her when her eyes flutter closed and her head lolls to the right, curls spilling over her face. He reaches down to place William back into the makeshift mattress Alex had made for him on the floor, a bunch of old, scratchy blankets scrunched into a cosy looking nest next to the nightstand, and he watches the baby place a small hand over the end of the pacifier and clutch it tightly, suckling noises getting louder and more persistent as he falls back asleep. 

"Thank you," a cold nose brushes behind his ear, sending an array of electric shocks through his body. "You handle them so well." He turns in his seat, angles his body to look up at Alex, who is illuminated beautifully by the slip of light illuminating from the hallway, his frame glowing at the edges. Tommy offers him a lopsided smile and stands from the bed, careful not to jostle it too much and wake Charlotte back up. 

"They're wonderful, Alex, they really are," he says, the sincerity in his voice making Alex smile widely and nod, eyes flickering over to the sleeping form of his daughter for a second, a warmth spreading in his green eyes. He reaches out, touches his hand against Tommy's knuckles, allows himself to slowly drag his fingertips up the back of his hand and wrap around the delicate skin of his wrist, all whilst looking straight at Tommy. There was something in his eyes, a wariness and subtleness that made Tommy twist his hand and lace their fingers together, erasing all signs of insecurities from Alex's face with that single move. For a second, he just stared at him, green meeting hazel, Alex's palm warm and slightly sweaty as he gives Tommy a timid, crooked smile, the gap between them shrinking as Alex hovers closer, brushes his lips over the highpoint of Tommy's cheek. Tommy's lips are parted, each breath he takes shaky and shallow as he attempts to speak, tightens his hold on Alex's hand and fights the tears brimming at his eyes, because all he wants to do is talk, pour his heart out and tell Alex how sorry he is. A smooth-shaven jawline brushes against his cheek, and he sucks in a loud breath as he presses his mouth to Alex's cheek, lips trembling against the soft skin. 

"Good night, Alex." 

And then he leaves, releases his hold on Alex's hand and slips out the door, making sure it's left slightly ajar before heading downstairs to go to sleep. He spends the majority of his night awake on his back, staring at the white ceiling of his living room and wishing for everything to go away. 

~ 

The weeks leading up to Christmas got progressively colder as each day went by, the quiet streets outside the apartment covered in a heavy layer of thick, slippery ice, a dusting of fat snowflakes covering it. Tommy sat by the kitchen table each morning in his usual chair, sipping his cup of tea and reading the newspaper, but his eyes kept flickering to the empty streets, an occasional taxi driving through the cobblestoned streets or some old couple crossing the road on their way to the local cafe. His reading glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, and with a soft push with the pads of his fingers he resituated them, the cool, black frames resting on the tops of his cheekbones. As he sipped his tea, fog arose on the glass, and his eyes followed the condensation as it slowly disappeared. 

"You're up early." Alex's pants hung low on his hips as he sauntered into the kitchen, curls sticking up from his head in all directions as he grabs a cup of coffee for himself, his white wife beater slipping up over the soft mound of fat situated at his hip. A sliver of his laurel hip tattoos showed, the soft skin a deep green in colour where it stretched out from his pelvis. Tommy forced his eyes away with a jerk of his head. 

"Couldn't sleep." He answers curtly, fingers slipping around the handle of his mug as Alex joins him at the table. He could feel Alex's eyes on him as he takes a large gulp of his tea. 

"Yeah, me neither." 

Two soft frames moved across the street outside their window, one slightly taller than the other and narrower around the waist. Tommy followed them with furrowed eyebrows, swallowing the last gulp of his tea just as they disappeared out of sight, the cloudy taste of sugary tea with milk staining his tongue as he gets up from his chair, his cup long forgotten at the table as he leaves the room. The doorbell rings loudly. 

Tommy casts Alex an alarmed look, bottom lip blossoming white as he digs his teeth into it, and Alex barely has the time to get out of his chair and smooth his hair down with the palm of his hand before the door slams open and loud chatter fills the hallway, Tommy's face soft and smiling as Mary throws her arms around his neck and pulls him into a tight hug. Her curled, dark hair flopped across his shoulders and tickles at his nose, the bright red fabric of her double-breasted coat riding up her strong thighs as she stood on her tiptoes. When she pulls back she makes sure to place a kiss to his cheek and smooth her hands through his hair, grinning wildly at him. 

"I thought you were fucking dead, Tom, my god. What's gotten into you?" She tuts, fingers tugging open the buttons of her coat as she reprimands him, shrugging the fabric off her shoulders and kicking her heeled boots off. "I tried calling your work, you know, and they said you weren't-" she stops dead in her tracks when Alex steps up behind Tommy, his eyes darting around before daring to meet her harsh gaze, shoulders hunching inwards and his lips curling. She looked at Tommy, who had lowered his eyes to the floor, and then back to Alex, her fingers twitching inside her tight, leather gloves. "What the fuck is this?" The chocolate brown of her iris nearly disappeared as her pupils dilated in the darkened hallway, her gloves hitting the rackety, old console table with a harsh slap. A soft hand lands on her shoulder and curls into the flowy fabric of her button up blouse, manicured fingernails barely scratching the skin of her neck as pink tinted lips press to her ear, blonde hair falling over her shoulders. Her jaw clenches before she visibly relaxes, looking swiftly over her shoulder to smile at Caroline. 

Alex's eyes flickered to Tommy, body still rigid and tight with insecurity as Mary laces her fingers with Caroline's and squeezes softly, letting their hands drop back to their sides as she walks up to Alex. Tommy reached over to kiss Caroline's rosy, powdered cheek. 

"What are you doing here?" Mary's voice is eerily calm and collected as she speaks, her head barely reaching Alex's shoulder as she peers up at him under the weight of her black coated eyelashes, her overdrawn top lip shining a soft red. "I thought we made it pretty clear that if you leave, don't fucking bother." Alex's bottom lip got sucked in between his teeth as she speaks loudly enough for it to ring throughout the apartment, her voice rising in pitch and anger all at the same time. "You made a choice, Alex, a stupid fucking choice-" 

"Daddy?" 

Mary stops abruptly as Lottie saunters into the hallway and wraps an arm around his right leg, resting her chubby cheek against his thigh. She had one of Alex's t-shirts draped across her body, the edges of it dragging along the floor, and with her pink pacifier clutched in one fist and her trusty bear clutched in the other, she was the epitome of innocence. Alex tangled a finger in her hair and stroked her head, watching Mary with large, pleading eyes. 

"Can we please talk about this later?" As if on cue, William starts whimpering from his position on the living room floor where Alex had laid out a blanket on the floor and placed him on it. He had managed to roll over onto his stomach and bit into some of the toys Charlotte had provided him with, and when he doesn't stop his cries Tommy's quick to excuse himself and pick him up, landing a quick kiss to his forehead and rattling a wooden toy to distract him. It seems to work, and his chubby fingers grab onto the toy and shakes it violently, bubbly giggles escaping him as he plays. Mary gives Alex a dumbfounded look. 

"You absolute son of a bitch," she whispers, and with one last look she joins Tommy in the living room, Caroline following her with a small smile directed at Alex. 

~ 

Tommy clutched his drink to his chest as Alex and Barbara glided across the ballroom floors, the heels of her shoes clicking in time with the string music being played. Her head fell back as she laughed, and a second later Alex sealed their lips together in a kiss, their bodies doing a flawless twirl on the floor just as guests started joining in. Tommy feared that he might break his glass if he squeezed it any harder. 

"Their sex must be awful," he turned at the sound of Mary's voice, her smirk large and blinding as she sips her cocktail, her red lipstick staining the glass, "she's as stiff as a stick." They snickered in unison, glasses clinking together as she presses closer to him, slides her arm around his waist to lean her head on his shoulder. The hairband she wore dug uncomfortably into his shoulder, but he only wrapped his arm over her shoulders to pull her close, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. 

Across the dancefloor, the doors slid open to reveal Barbara's father, his greying hair curled around his large ears, the top of his skull nearly bare as he makes his way to the dancefloor, deep green suit shining expensively under the bright lights. Alex placed a kiss to his wife's hand and turned to shake her father's hand before disappearing to the bar, and Barbara continued the dance with her dad. 

"Did you see the bartender? I swear to God, she kept winking at me during the cake cutting." Mary shoved a forkful of cake into her mouth and licked the custard off her fingers, eyes gravitating to the bar where a tall, slim girl darted elegantly from guest to guest, her blonde hair curled in soft ringlets over her shoulders and bangs cut daringly short. Her large, doll like eyes drifted to Mary and she smiled brightly tilting her head at her before turning to tap some beer into a mug. Mary took another bite. "She's fucking cute, isn't she?" 

Clad in an A-line dress with a belted waist, the girl probably stood a few inches taller than Mary, her pale skin complimented by the dusty pink fabric of her floral printed dress, the long sleeves tapering out at the end to flow around her dainty wrists. She looked nothing like a bartender, that was Tommy's first thought, yet she handled the beer tapping and drink mixing with practiced ease, mysterious smirk never quite disappearing from her rosy lips. Alex's family was gathered around her, middle aged men slouched over the barstools, and she managed to peer over the top of his father's head to smile at Mary, lips parting to reveal her slightly uneven, large front teeth. Mary slammed her plate down on a table and wiped over her mouth with the back of her hand. 

"I'm going in, wish me luck." 

He looks after her with an amused smile, tipping his drink at her and sipping the bitter liquid, propping his hip against the wall as he watches Mary reach over the bar to shake her hand, her curvy hips settling onto one of the stools as the bartender goes to fetch her another drink. 

Later that evening, Tommy walks a stumbling Mary home, laughing and supporting her with an arm around her waist, while the bartender, Caroline, tagged along behind them. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't actually gonna post this because it's just one big scene and I feel like it's a bit awkward, but when I read it together with, what will now, be the next part, it just didn't sound right, so I decided to cut it up. I know it probably sucks, but the good thing iiiiiiiis that the other part will probably be finished like, really soon, because it's already 1200 words and I am fucking excited about it, soooo hooray, I suppose? Yeah, hooray. Anywayssss hope you enjoy, please do feel free to leave a comment or a kudos or anything, I love reading them all.

Across the street from their apartment was an open field consisting of a few flower beds and a swing set, the rusty, old metal covered nearly halfway by masses of heavy snow. Lottie climbed the mountain like a champ, her small hands dragging her lithe body up the harsh pieces of snow only to slide back down on her bum, long hair flowing behind her in long locks. Tommy caught her as she touched ground again, hoisting her into the air and spinning her around in circles, and from his position at the kitchen table Alex could see his daughter gaping in mid laughter, her head tilted back and her legs kicking wildly. Caroline joined them, the heel of her boot rocking William in his stroller, and she reached out to tickle her gloved fingers across Lottie's stomach, smiling when she let out a loud, deep-bellied laughter. 

Mary slams her mug of coffee down on the table and sits down across from him, her thin, drawn on eyebrows caught in a tight frown. "Okay, explain," she leans back in her seat and sips the steaming hot beverage, her bright red lipstick staining the ceramic. "This better be fucking good, Alexander." 

He hated when she used his full name, hated the way her voice took an unusual turn that reminded him so much of his parents, so deep and authoritative. He felt like a reprimanded child as she stared at him from across the table, her dark eyes caught in the shadows of her thick, black lashes, and he couldn't help but to lean closer, dig the pointy ends of his dry elbows into the table top and stare just as harshly back at her, taking in the red tint of her cheeks that peeked through the layer of pressed powder on her face and the darkened circles under her eyes. He didn't have anything to do with his hands, considering she hadn't made him anything to drink, so he settled for picking at the slightly worn edges of his striped button up, eyes falling to the ground. 

"I don't really know if there's any reason for me to explain myself, 'cause you've obviously made up your mind on how you feel about me," he stops her dead in her tracks as she tries to protest, his hand reaching out to silence her, "but I'll try, 'cause I don't care if you believe me. Hate me all you want, but I want you to know the truth." 

She seemed to consider his words for a second, frown drawing tighter before easing up again, her shoulder slumping heavily. She sips her coffee before speaking. "Meanwhile you were out there playing house with that bitch, popping out babies and living the lush life, I was here. Every single day, I came here to drag your best friend out of bed and make sure he ate, went to work." her eyes grow heavy with emotion, her voice laced with tears from the lump in her throat. She stared at him, eyes glazing over. "I wish you could've seen him deteriorate because of what you did, and I wish you could've heard the pure hate he felt for you. You deserve nothing more, Alex." Her words wobbled before she went quiet, sipping her drink again. The room grew tense around them as he thought of what to tell her, and with a final look at her he drew in a shaky breath, lacing his fingers together. 

"We moved houses not too long ago, up near where her parents' lodge is, near the woods and the lake. She wanted something bigger, and I wanted her to stop nagging, so I went along," the tips of his fingers find their way into his greasy bangs to push them back, untrimmed fingernails dragging against his sore scalp. He swallowed heavily as Mary kept her gaze cold and unforgiving, his fingers playing nervously with each other. "She hired a gardener after a few weeks, told me it would be too much work for her on her own. He was a good-looking lad, no older than 25, I'm sure..." he trails off, rubbing across his unshaven face for a few seconds. His green eyes meet Mary's brown ones, and he struggles to keep his words coherent and under control, his chest aching painfully. "He fucked her over the living room couch, so I took my kids and left." Mary's façade falters for a second, her eyes growing soft and pliant under his spoken words. He can see the way her fingers twitch around her cup, as if she wants to reach out to him, but she refrains, pressing them against the hot mug and chews her bottom lip in thought. Her eyes fall to his hands where he's pressing his nails into the palm of his hand, shoulder shaking with pent up anger and sadness. 

"I don't have anyone, Mary, not anymore, and I didn't know what to do," he looks out the window and locates his daughter, who's now perched in Tommy's lap playing with a wooden horse, Caroline bouncing William in her arms. From behind, she almost looked like Barbara. He tears his gaze away. 

"I've made more mistakes than I can count; When my grandmother was sick, I didn't go visit her. She died and I didn't get to say goodbye," he sucks in a breath between pinched lips and squeezes his eyes shut, "I could've saved someone's life, back at Dunkirk beach. A poor sod, French. And I let him drown." Mary looks away, fingers leaving her coffee cup behind as she sighs, "But, you know what?" His large, rough hands grasp Mary's smaller ones and squeezes, his lips trembling as tears start gathering along his water line. "My biggest regret was letting Tom go. He was my everything, and I was a fucking coward, Mary, a fucking loser." She struggles to hold back her tears at the sight of him, the memory she had of him, strong and confident and funny, whisked away to make room for the small, pale man in front of her, his eyes bright red and wet and his cheeks pale and hollow. His gaze was as hollow as his heart, she was sure of it, and she gave his hands a soft, reassuring squeeze, her warm flesh a stark contrast to his freezing fingers. "I was young, and stupid, and I'm paying the price." 

He looked like a ghost when he reached up to rub at his nose, the veins in his arms peeking through the paper like skin, and Mary couldn't help herself when she got out of her seat to plop down into his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck and her lips pressing to the back of his ear softly. One of his arms supports her back, fingers digging into her soft waist, and she strokes a hand through his greasy curls, pressing another kiss to his jawline. 

"He's waited for you, all these years. He denied it so many times, he said he was fine and that he never wanted to see you again, but he's such a shit liar, Alex," she pulls back to look at him, cheeks lined with tear tracks, and she quickly strokes the pads of her thumbs over them, cupping his cheeks with her palms. "You chose her, but he had already chosen you." Her words are barely a whisper, hushed sentences flowing from her sticky lips, and the arm around her tightens its hold, pulling her flush against him as he lets out the most broken, full bodied sob she's ever heard, his face digging into her shoulder as he cries. They sit there for a while, the only sound being Alex's heart wrenching sobs, eyes swelling red and puffy from all the crying, but he stops abruptly as the front door opens again and two small feet thunder across the hardwood floors. He pulls his face out of Mary's neck and attempt to wipe at his eyes, smiling sheepishly at her as she pulls out a handkerchief from her pocket and dabs it over his eyes, one of her hands softly cupping his cheek. Lottie came running into the kitchen moments later. 

"Daddy! Daddy, I made a snowman!" She squeals excitedly, frowning slightly at the sight of him wiping his eyes with Mary perched in his lap, her small hands clasping at the front of her dusty pink floral dress. Her socks were mismatched and bunched up at the ankles, and she seemed to hesitate a bit, going pigeon toed much like her father. Mary slips off Alex's lap and watches as he bends down to pick her up, pressing a soft, loving kiss to her rosy cheek as he carries her into the living room where Caroline has busied herself with ridding William of his thick winter clothes, his tall frame such a contrast to the small child clutched in his arms. 

"I get it," Mary turns to look at Tommy as he saunters up behind him, the sentence whispered from between her pursed lips as he wraps an arm around her and props his chin on her shoulder, the soft stubble prickling through the flowy material of her blouse, his fingers soft and warm as they curl around her soft hip. "I don’t necessarily agree, but I get it." She tilts her head so her cheek rests atop the soft apex of his head, manicured fingers lacing with unclipped, scratchy ones and squeezing, her smile soft as she twists to look at him. Lottie can be heard squealing in the living room as Alex tips her over and attacks her, digging his fingers into her soft belly as she laughs, squirming in his strong hold. As Mary's lips press against Tommy's temple, her laughter intensifies, Alex's fingers having pulled Lottie's shirt up to blow raspberries against her stomach, and Tommy can't stop himself from grinning widely, his chin propped on Mary's shoulder. 

Mary and Caroline bids them goodbye later that evening after Alex had managed to convince Mary to stay for dinner, which she had reluctantly agreed to after he had wrapped an arm around her waist and placed a kiss to her cheek, quietly murmuring in her ear something that only the two of them could hear. Her eyes had lit up and a smile so wide and blinding had stretched across her face, and they had ended up staying the entire evening, even helping Lottie to bed when the stubborn toddler insisted that Mary should be the one to read her a bedtime story. The two women had tucked her in together while Alex watched from behind the slightly ajar bedroom door. 

"Now, keep in touch, yeah?" Mary's eyes shone with emotions as she leaned in to kiss Alex's cheek, her gloved fingers tight around the muscle of his arm as she smiles at him, the look on her face loose and relaxed from the copious amounts of alcohol he had served her during dinner. "Take care of him, love." She mumbles to Alex, but Tommy bites away a smile at the comment. She moves to Tommy next, wrapping her arm around his neck and pulling him in close, the smell of her rose perfume and her strong hairspray tickling at his nostrils. He hugs her back with a smile, her lips pressed to his ear as she murmurs to him, tightens her fingers in the collar of his shirt, and Alex pretends not to look when Tommy's eyes flicker over to him, wide and expressionless. Tommy grabs onto Mary a tad tighter and presses a kiss to her temple, all the while his eyes were still trained on Alex, and he doesn't look away until Mary squeezes his shoulders and bids them goodnight. She pulls back easily, straightens out her red coat and perches her hat atop her neat hair before linking her arm with Caroline's, leaving the flat dead silent as the door slips shut behind them. Tommy fidgets with the door for a second, slides his thumb over the hatch and locks the door securely, his hand resting atop the door handle before he turns to face Alex, his back hitting the wood with a soft thud. 

Alex's face is stoic, his jaw set tight and his hands clenching at his sides, his eyes flickering around the room to avoid meeting Tommy's, which are staring straight at him. He takes a step closer, braces his body with a hand on the doorframe leading into the living room, and just as Tommy's about to push away from the door, wrap his fingers into the soft fabric of Alex's shirt and pull him to his chest, Alex turns and heads up the stairs, one heavy step at a time. Tommy feels his throat constrict tightly, and he forces himself to swallow down the tears threatening to spill from his dry, scratchy eyes, and when he hears the faint sound of the bedroom door closing, he tips his head back and lets it smack against the door, his eyes slipping closed and a loud whoosh of air flowing from his tight lips. 

"Fuck." 


	15. Chapter 15

The cool darkness of the bedroom seemed to intensify as Alex shot awake at 3:37, a dark lining of damp sweat staining the back of his sleepshirt as he pushes himself into a sitting position. Charlotte's curled up in a foetus position in Tommy's bed, her curls mushed against her red, chubby cheek as she sleeps, and he smiled carefully at her as he leaned his head back against the wall, exhaling quietly. 

"Did I wake you?" 

Alex nearly tumbles out of bed and onto the floor at the sound of a hushed voice straight ahead, fingers quickly moving to grasp the edges of his bed as he lets out a loud yelp, eyes searching for the source of the voice in the pitch-dark room. A darkened silhouette slides around the edge of his bed and settles at his feet, moonlight peeking through the darkness and illuminating the freckled bridge of Tommy's nose. Alex's throat went dry. 

"Fuckin' hell, mate, what the fuck are you up to?" He murmurs, rubbing his hands across his face slowly and deliberately, five o'clock shadow scratching against the skin of his palms, and he felt the bed dip slightly as Tommy moved closer, each move he made hesitant and anxious. Alex dropped his hands into his lap and let his head loll to the side, eyes slowly inching their way up Tommy's body, his loose, beige sleep pants, old button up with a large number of missing buttons hanging off his thin shoulders; even the hint of a dusting of dark hair between his exposed pecks. "Fuckin' sneakin' up on me like that... Fuck." 

Tommy raises his eyebrows amusedly and pushes his bum further up on the mattress, settling with Alex's toes barely brushing against the side of his thigh as he leans against the wall, fingers playing with some of the frayed edges of the old sheets. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." He finds one particularly long thread that he wraps around three of his fingers and pulls, watching the flesh turn bright red and then slowly go purple, letting go just as he feels the pain start to slip away and the creepy, numb feeling crawl through his bones. The thread slips down his leg and disappears to the floor along with the rest of the sheets. He looks up at Alex. 

"I-… Fuck, I'm really bad at this..." He murmurs, pulling one knee up to his chest so that he could support his chin, focusing for a minute on the sensation of his chin hair scraping against the thick skin of his kneecap, each movement he made accentuated by the slight burn of coarse hair, and he wills himself to ground himself to the uncomfortable feeling as he keeps talking. "I wanted to talk to you, but... I can't fucking talk, you know? Every time we talk it just, it fucks up, and I just want this to be okay," he sucks in a sharp breath and dares cast a look at Alex, who's face is scrunched together in deep thought, one large, dark wrinkle carving through the flesh of his forehead. Tommy chews on his lip. "I just want us to be okay, yeah? That's fair." 

There's no response from Alex, just the quiet rustling of sheets as he throws his legs over the edge of the bed and moves to sit next to Tommy, their shoulders brushing against each other as he settles. His breathing is loud, shaky, years of smoking and heavy labour clouding his lungs and rasping through his breaths, each inhale he makes making his voice shudder and his eyes flinch. Tommy can see it every time, the slight twinkle in his eyes that signalizes the pain, or maybe just worry. Worry that his children would be left alone. One of his hands move involuntarily, curling around Alex's broad palm to lace their fingers together, and the raspiness picks up speed, wheezes through his tired lungs as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets his head drop against Tommy's, tattooed fingers giving an ever so slight squeeze. Perhaps the fluttering in Tommy's chest should spike some worry, but for now it only triggers a smile. 

"Why'd you wait?" The raspiness asks him, laced with sleepiness and intoxication, heat radiating from Alex's body and over to him, enveloping him in a hue of warmth and stickiness, the smell of alcohol lingering on his breath. "I've been here for two fuckin' weeks, and you've ignored me for over five years." There's hurt there, somewhere in-between the building lung cancer and liver failure, and it sparks under Tommy's skin, warms his veins and makes his blood boil. Alex's hand turns clammy in his hold yet he squeezes harder. 

He twists his neck, just a little bit, just enough that when he looks over at Alex he spots the delicate curl of his eyelashes, the shadows they cast onto his cheekbones, the way his nose slopes down towards his wide nostrils and tapers off at the tip. There's a soft hue of sweat dusting his top lip, gathering at the indent of his cupid's bow and settling in the downy hairs that had yet to be shaven off, and when Alex twists to look at him, too, he feels cliché enough to think that time stands still for a few seconds. There's a glint in those green eyes, the right one speckled with soft pieces of shimmering gold, and when he blinks it sparkles in the moonlight, and Tommy can nearly feel it tickle across his skin. Alex's warm breath ghosts across his cheek, and Tommy feels brave enough to cup a hand around his sharp jaw, stroke the pad of his thumb over his cheekbone and pat at his under eyes, the puffy skin fluttering at the touch. 

"I can only talk to you in the dark," he whispers, the words nearly unintelligible as he tips his chin down towards his chest and curls his legs up behind himself, his bare feet tangling in the sheets. "I-… I know, it's fucking insane, but we used to talk in the dark, remember? And... I see you, when it's dark," he angles his body more towards Alex, both his hands coming up to cup his stubbled jaw and press their foreheads together. Alex hums at the touch, wraps his hands around Tommy's and squeezes, eyes fluttering closed as they breathe in unison, one raspy and one quiet. "I dreamed of you, every night, but now...-" he trails off, feels the way Alex's hands squeezes rhythmically against his own, the way that, in sheer size, Alex swallows him up, even his hands feeling so large in comparison. "It's so quiet, Alex, even when you're here." Alex's hands drop to his waist, circles around to wrap him up against his chest and push his face into Tommy's neck, each deep breath he took fanning out across Tommy's damp skin. "I can't hear anything." 

It's so soft Tommy thinks his mind is playing tricks of him, but he swears for a moment that Alex's lips press against his rapidly beating pulse point, lips dried and cracked yet still soft as they ghost over the spot just below his ear, arms tightening around his waist. "Tom..." He whispers, voice strenuous and tight, "Tommy, I- fuck," he mumbles then, cutting his sentence short when his voice tapers off into the darkness of the chilly room, Tommy's soft breaths fanning out across the damp curls at the base of his neck. Lottie squirms in her sleep, then, tossing the sheets onto the floor and letting out an elongated hum, her hair braided into two little pigtails at the back of her head and her bear clutched in her arms. 

Tommy's the one who pulls away when she moves, his fingers fumbling in the dark to find purchase against Alex's chest, tangling in the straps of his wife beater and pushing him down on the mattress, crawling onto the bed next to him to press their bodies together underneath the thin sheets. Tommy's feet were warm and soft as he tangled them with Alex's freezing cold ones, his big toe nudging softly at the hard skin of Alex's working feet as he feels the older man relax in his hold, sink into Tommy's warmth and pull the sheets up to their chins, and when Alex smiles widely in the darkness of his room, Tommy feels the indents of his dimples pressing into the inside of his elbow. They fall asleep tangled up in one another, Tommy curled across Alex's back with an arm under his head and a hand splayed across the soft flesh of his belly, their quiet breaths heating up the space around them as unconsciousness arises over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at meeeee, the update queeeeeen. Wow, if this is not single handidly the most positive chapter of this sappy ass story, then I don't fucking know, guys. I keep looking at the "sad with a happy ending" tag and think that I will do it justice, slowly but surely. I promise guys, these hopeless idiots are gonna get there, it just takes time. Lots and lots of horrid slow burn. Thanks for reading, this isn't too long but I'm well into the next part and I'm starting to see where this story is going and how I'm gonna wrap it up, so please stay tuned. Love you all, good night!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while longer than I'd anticipated, but like, it also turned out longer than I expected so I suppose it's okay? I don't even know, anywaysssss, I hope you enjoy this, all comments and kudos and love is appreciated and I love you all soooo much.

The next morning, Alex talks. 

Mary had popped by for a surprise visit and taken the kids to town, leaving in a hurry with William propped up in a stroller with a small sixpence cap pushed over his soft, blonde locks, and Charlotte dressed in small lace up boots and a clean, dust pink coat that buttoned up to her chin, her hand clutched in Mary's as they left the apartment to catch the next tram. 

Alex emerged from upstairs in a flurry of wet, bouncy curls and freshly shaven cheeks, his pants pulled high up on his hips and his shirt tucked in at the waist, a pair of black braces stretching across his broad shoulders. He'd strolled up to Tommy and propped his chin up on the man's shoulder as he watched their breakfast being prepared, and when Tommy turned to pour him a cup of coffee, he'd gripped onto his wrists and given him a wide, toothy grin, flicking his thumb across the volume nub of their radio to turn the music up, swinging Tommy around. Their breakfast nearly clattered to the ground in a putty of scrambled eggs and overcooked bacon, yet Tommy settled for resting his arms around Alex's neck and entertaining him for a brief moment with a badly coordinated dance across the kitchen floor, Alex's hands strong at the dip of his waist as they spin around. When the song ends, Alex proceeds to bow to Tommy, gracefully bending at the waist to brush a kiss over the back of his hand, and Tommy couldn't even pretend to not smile at that. 

The eggs were slightly cold at the first bite, and the bacon was chewy and too salty, but Alex ate like it was his last meal, bacon fat smearing across his smooth chin and small bits of bacon sticking to the puffy cupids bow of his soft, red lips. Tommy watched him in awe, listening to him spew out all kinds of things, changing the topics from work to his children, explaining to Tommy that William was starting to sit up on his own and move around, all the while his eyes glowed with pride, and then telling him that his mother had tried to contact him by letters, which he'd torn apart and thrown away. He finished his food by the time Tommy had only taken two bites and rested his elbows on the table top. He tilted his head softly and offered Tommy a timid smile, the left side of his face pulling up slightly higher than the right one as he reached out his hand and brushed his fingers over Alex's palm, lazily stroking patterns onto the skin. 

"I want us to be okay, too, Tom. More than anything," he says, tone earnest and open as Tommy stuffs a large portion of food into his mouth and chews loudly, willing his body to stay in his seat as Alex's moves their hands, laces their fingers together and watches his rough, calloused hands rest against Tommy's slimmer, more dainty ones, his own knuckles darkened and dried from years of labour work whilst Tommy's were soft and pale from waiting tables at a local, family owned restaurant. It felt like a spark ran through him, his skin buzzing from the single point of touch between them, and he felt his heart thud steadily in his chest, vibrating between the protection of his skin and bones, picking up speed whenever Alex would squeeze his hand or stroke his clammy palm. It was like a pull, he concluded with, like whenever they shared a single moment of communication his body wanted to ruin it all, to mesh their lips together and forget all about the unspoken shit between them; like he just wanted a touch of what he was never allowed to have. He realised how bizarrely his brain and body reacted to their physical contact, how his muscles seemed to thrum in anticipation and his veins seemed to make his blood sizzle, and when Alex squeezed his hand again, Tommy's fork scratched loudly against his plate, making him flinch and pull back. Alex didn't seem to care, though, just tucked his hands underneath his armpits and leaned back in his chair. 

"We should do something today, you and me. There's a market down the street, I think, and we need to stock up on shit before Christmas." 

And that was it. Tommy looked after Alex as the man went back upstairs to put on a sweater, his eyes wide in wonder and his fork stuck in a piece of fatty bacon, and by the time he'd finished his food and they had left the house, Alex had already started chatting away again, pulling Tommy along by his sleeve as he spoke of his family and friends, mentioned a few lads he wanted Tommy to meet sometime, told him of how Barbara had sent him to a therapist Charlotte was born because he'd broke down in the hospital when hearing Barbara's screams of pain. It's so nonchalant, the way he mentions how he'd tucked his head between his knees and rocked back and forth on the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks as he chanted mumbled words to himself, nurses pulling at his clothes and smoothing down his hair in a poor attempt of comfort. Tommy smooths a hand over his forearm, then, and luckily for them it goes unnoticed by the crowd of people around them. Alex smiles, though. 

They stop to pick up some meat, deciding to purchase a whole pig and part it themselves, and as they wandered the market side by side, the pig wrapped safely in a bag that Alex had slung over his shoulder, Tommy kept glancing over at him in wonder, watching his eyes sparkle every time he'd see something they needed or spot some lovely vegetables, his shoulder constantly brushing against Tommy as they subconsciously stayed close to one another. 

~ 

On the 24th, the day before Christmas, Tommy realised something was wrong. 

Alex had been consistently talking throughout the last few weeks, showing up with the kids to walk Tommy home from work and making dinner for them all, dressed in a frilly, pink apron that Lottie had picked out for him at the corner store. He'd chatted about his relationship with Barb, his family, how his boss kept underpaying him each month for nearly 6 months; it never stopped. Tommy just listened, bobbed his head in silent confirmation each time Alex would look over at him. It was infuriating. 

But on this particular day, Alex grew a bit silent. Not much, his chatter was just a lot more half-hearted than it had been, and when he'd sauntered into the kitchen and placed Lottie in the little makeshift highchair Tommy had made for her out of a small stool and an old, wooden apple crate, Tommy had attempted to smile at him. he only received a small pull of Alex's lips back. 

"Daddy, where's Mommy?" 

Tommy can nearly hear Alex's heart shattering from across the room just then. 

He doesn't dare to turn around, just keeps stirring his wooden spatula through the messy breakfast grub he'd thrown together, his head held down and his eyebrows furrowed. Sweat gathered along his hairline as a heavy silence came upon them all, and nothing could be heard except the ruffling of Alex's shirt as he moved to lean back in his chair. 

"Mommy's not here, baby," he answers simply, voice soft and timid and so very unlike Alex, the sentence vague enough for Lottie's three-year-old brain to process yet hollow enough for Tommy to grip onto the spatula just that much tighter, his head growing fuzzy with anger and sadness as the minutes pass by. "She's back at the house, remember? I told you this." 

Lottie doesn't answer, and when Tommy plates up some food for her and slides it onto the table, he spots a few tears gathering along her lash line, bottom lip sticking out in a heart-breaking pout. Her chubby fists come up to wipe the stray tears away, and she makes a low sobbing noise in the back of her throat. Tommy stills. 

He crouches down next to her, supports himself with one arm braced on the table top whilst the other came up to rub along her back. "Hey, babe, no need for tears, yeah?" She shies away from him, curls in on herself as Tommy leans in closer and presses a quick kiss to her clothed shoulder, her face hidden behind her clenched fists. He can hear her sniffling as he beckons her closer with a soft tap to her back, her small arms finally wrapping around his neck, allowing him to lift her out of her seat and into his tight embrace. Alex's face is stoic as he watches Tommy hoist his daughter onto his hip, keeping one arm tight under her bum as the other one strokes circles along her back, his lips pressed to the side of her head. 

"Christmas is happy times, love, can't be crying when father Christmas comes around, now, can we?" Tommy murmurs, pressing a kiss to her wet cheek, "it's all gonna be just fine, I promise you." It's so quiet, his mumbled words disappearing beneath her wiry curls and evaporating by the time they reach Alex, nothing left but a low rumble of secrets, and he can see the way Alex is itching to say something, his fingers twitching where they're resting in his lap, his ring finger and thumb bitten bloody and raw on his right hand. Tommy recognizes the signs just then, his overly happy attitude, his shit talking and his skittish but touchy behaviour; the bitten raw fingernails and the quick glances. As if someone flicked a switch, the smell of gunpowder and the screams of dying soldiers being ripped apart, limb by limb; the calm of the sea and the ringing in his ears. Alex looks up at him and it's a harsh stare, his eyes duller than they've ever been, the green completely evaporated in favour of the horrid, pewter grey of his iris, his chin still tipped down to touch his chest. He's war; all dark, dull and murderous, he's 25 again, drinking his problems away until his stomach weeps and his visions go blurry. He's exactly what Tommy remembers him as. A picture of PTSD wrapped up in ill-fitting clothing, a mop of unruly curls and a stress wrinkle forming between two heavy eyebrows. 

He stares right back for a couple of seconds, grips onto Lottie tighter and wraps her up tighter in his arms. She sniffles again. 

"Daddy was crying again," she whispers, her face nuzzled deeply into the crevice of Tommy's neck, her long lashes brushing against the soft skin of his neck each time she blinks, "Daddy cries a lot, Tom. Why is Daddy sad?" 

Tommy feels like hurtling himself off a cliff in that moment, the toddler clutched tightly against his chest as he presses his face into her hair and exhales shakily, not noticing that he's bouncing her lightly as he moves about, turns his back to Alex in order to tear himself away from those heavy eyes, not being able to bear the look in them, the emotionless stare he'd been faced with so many times before. 

He faintly hears the sound of Alex getting out of his seat, the chair dragging noisily against the linoleum floors, and then there's a warmth behind him, a thick wall pressing against his back, the faint smell of men's cologne and a soft hint of sweat overwhelming Tommy as Alex leans down to press a kiss to Lottie's forehead, her chest fluttering with the ragged breath she inhales. 

"No, sweetheart, I'm fine, okay? Daddy's okay, we're all gonna be okay," he whispers, running his fingers through her short curls, nails catching at a few knots, and Tommy can feel her squirm against him, accepts it when she wiggles free from him and wraps her arms around Alex's neck, his arm coming up to catch her as she digs her face into his chest and cries. "Remember what I told you, babe? When we left the house that night, remember what I said?" 

It takes a few minutes for her to calm down, her hiccupping sobs finally subduing enough for her to be able to wipe her cheeks dry of tears and let Alex straighten out her by combing his fingers through it. Tommy feels like leaving, just then, feels like an intruder as Alex leans his forehead against her temple and kisses her red, ruddy cheek, his soft breaths fanning out across her cheeks and tickling at her neck. Tommy barely registers her nodding, straightens out his shirt collar and makes a dash for the doorway, ready to busy himself with changing William's diaper or something when Alex's fingers encircle his wrist in a soft yet demanding touch, silently asking him to stay as Lottie wipes vigorously at her nose, her large, doll like eyes fixated on the back of Tommy's head. Alex bounces her against his chest. 

"Come on, love, tell me," he whispers against her cheek, nose nudging at her cheekbone, "I know you remember. You were crying because you were scared, yeah?" She nods along, fists a handful of Alex's shirt tightly and leans her head against his shoulder, "and I told you there was nothing to be scared of. And why was that?" Her small face twists to the right and accepts the small kiss he presses to her forehead, his fingers still wrapped around Tommy's wrist. His palms are growing sweatier by the minute. 

"Because you knew somewhere safe," she whispers then, eyes fluttering closed and her tiny, pink lips parting slightly, "Tom was safe because he saved you once." 

Tommy feels like he's died, feels the weight of his body but can't seem to move, his head growing tight with a continuous ringing noise traveling through his ears, and he can feel Alex tugging softly at his arm, beckoning him closer, yet he's frozen, can't move his body. Time around him passes by, an elderly couple across the street stop to purchase a bouquet of flowers whilst a small child narrowly avoids being run over by a passing car; an old, blinking street sign stops working above the local pub. Whilst Tommy gets stuck inside his own mind, fights against the constrictions of his own brain, the world lives on, and his chest grows tighter with each passing second. Only when Alex let's Lottie down, ushers her into the living room to keep an eye on her brother, does Tommy react to his touch. 

"Tom," he mumbles, tugs at the sleeve of his shirt with careful fingers, sidles closer with the ghost of a touch across Tommy's lower back; perhaps that was just Tommy's mind playing tricks with him? 

He smelled like he always had, warm and soft and pure Alex, but when he stepped into Tommy's space it was as if the smell was totally foreign, the scent of it nauseating and heavy, one of his arms slowly wrapping around Tommy's waist to pull him closer. Tommy protested with a hand on his chest, glassy eyes finally focusing back on Alex's face again, who's face carries a look of hurt and confusion. Tommy feels like banging his head into a wall. 

"You fucking coward." 

Alex flinches back at his harsh tone, fingers loosening their grip on Tommy's waist before his hands fell back against his sides. 

"You can't fucking talk for yourself, so you force your three year old baby girl to do the chatting for you?" He spat, a wave of anger and disappointment washing over him at the sight of Alex's ashamed face, green eyes glued to the tip of a thick, woollen sock. "You're a fucking joke, Alex, bloody hell." 

When Tommy moves, so does Alex, with a practiced ease and a soft, yet firm hold on Tommy's arm, eyes pleading as ever as Tommy feels the anger boiling through his blood, feels it spark underneath his skin, and he's just so pissed. He wants to push the older man away, scream his lungs sore and his eyes blood shot, portray his feelings eloquently enough for tears to run down his cheeks and snot to clog his nostrils because he's so mad, madder than he's been in a long time. Mad enough for it to hurt, somewhere in the cavity where his heart beats steadily with each of his ragged inhales, mad enough for his heartbeats to quicken when Alex licks his lips and grabs onto his shoulders, keeping him in place. Fucking twat.

"Tom, please- you have to understand something-" he begs, digs his fingers into Tommy's biceps and squeezes, doesn't let up the throbbing pressure even when the younger man twists away in pain, uses his elbows to knock Alex back with a punch to his chest. 

"No, Alex, I think you need to understand something," his tone is steady and cold, body twisting away from Alex with a final squirm. Alex stood before him, one of his braces slipping down his shoulder to curl around a thick, muscled thigh, one small curl separating from the others to rest against his forehead, and his eyes shimmer in the light, sparkle in that same green shade Tommy fell in love with five years ago. His hands are braced behind his back, fists holding tightly onto the kitchen counters for leverage. "This right here? It isn't fucking fair, Alex," Tommy makes sure he has Alex's full attention when he finally decides to let go. "It's not fucking fair that whilst I've been dealing with this fucking shit, alone, for five bloody years, you've been hiding your shit under layers of alcohol and work and that fucking bitch Barbara," the coldness wavers for a second, makes room for a wave of emotion Tommy didn't realise he had left in him. He swallows heavily and steps closer to Alex. "I've been here, dealing with my shit, dealing with the fact that I was in love with you," Alex's eyes flow over with tears, "and what did you do? You buried yourself balls deep in your fucking wife and you pretended to be fine. I was here, Alex." His voice cracks, his bottom lip being sucked in between his teeth as he inhales shakily, tears gathering in fat drops along his waterline. "You left me here alone, Alex, and it damn near killed me." 

The clock above the door ticks softly, reminds Tommy of time and space as Alex brings one hand up to wipe at his eyes, acknowledges the information provided to him with a slow nod, his head hanging low. Tommy's jaw clenches tightly. 

"Every morning before I went to work, I'd flip a coin," he continues on, clears his throat briefly and picks at the edge of his sleeve. "Tails, I'd come home from work and go right to sleep," a loud siren sounds outside their window, "Heads, I'd come home, go upstairs, grab the box of sleeping pills you left behind and swallow the whole fucking thing." Alex's face cracks, tears flowing down his already wet cheeks. Tommy watches him closely. "Heads was death, tails was life... and I got tails, every fucking time. So, I stopped, after about a month." 

Alex wipes at his eyes and nods, sniffles harshly to swallow down the lump in his throat, and despite his blood shot eyes and snot filled face, he offers Tommy a lopsided smile, hands coming up to cup the sharp jut of Tommy's jaw in his rough palms. 

"I'm glad you did." 

Tommy nods slowly, wraps his fingers around Alex's hands and squeezes. 

"Me too."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me so long to write and I have no idea why. Five fucking weeks, holy mother of god. Well, I hope you all enjoy, my face is about to smash into the keyboard and I almost posted this on His soldier, His Alex instead, so there's that. Love you all, thanks for the support, so close to 2000 hits!

A long, cobblestoned boardwalk stretched along the calm shores, surrounded by fine grained, beige sand and the orange hues of a sunset, rays of light dancing across the white painted facades of townhouses, stretching further than Tommy's eyes could see. It was so bright, his eyes felt like they were vibrating as he looked around, savouring the sights of leaves blowing softly in the wind, the sounds of waves crashing against the shore, the significantly strong smell of saltwater. He closed his eyes, allowed himself to wallow in the feeling of calmness, the cool breeze tickling across his arms, through the downy hairs covering the skin, the crisp smell flowing through his nostrils only to be exhaled out through his mouth, clouding the air as hot met cold. 

Tommy was pretty sure that the nothing had never been this beautiful before, never been this full. 

In the midst of all this, he couldn't really place himself. He knew that when he reached out and ran his fingers along the ground, small grains of sand stuck to his clammy palms, but he knew there was no sand underneath his fingertips. It was just smooth, untouched, so soft it only left behind specks of golden dust underneath his nails. When he leaned his head back, there was something there to catch it, something rough to pillow the soft landing of Tommy's skull, and he felt hot all over, the column of his neck exposed to the light breeze as it tickled across his Adam's apple. 

Perhaps this is what the empty always looked like, Tommy just couldn't see it. Or, perhaps, he just never wanted to see it. Never allowed himself the pleasure of not associating his dreams with death. 

A particularly large wave crashed onto the shore and swallowed up a small collection of small sea shells gathered in the shape of a heart just at the very edge of the beach, right where the sand is constantly a bit soggy from the water, yet not always covered with it. Just that soft, in-between area that you would sink your toes into and savour the coldness of it. Tommy felt his toes curl at the thought, dragged them along the ground underneath him and hissed at the feeling of his toenails dragging against bare ground. Words were spoken to him, but he couldn't hear it. 

Accompanying the words was a strong, tanned forearm wrapping around his middle, a hand much meatier and rough around the edges than his own splaying across his stomach, a tattooed cross winking back at him when he looks down, splays his own hand over it. He chews softly on his lips, feels their fingers moulding together, resting softly atop his expanding abdomen as he breathes out, whispers a quiet 'Alex'. The arm tightens. 

"Tommy," he whispers back, and Tommy hears him this time, hears his soft voice over the pitter patter of rain hitting ocean, hears his hushed words instead of the steady rumble of death, instead of bombs hitting the ground and the intense ringing in his ears. "Tommy," he hears, the words whispered against the top of his head instead of echoing into the distant black. 

"Alex," he says again, voice strained and thick as he leans back, lets their bodies touch firmly, lets the warmth from Alex's chest seep through him, feels it wrap around him and pull him closer as the waves sloshes quietly in the distance, the sun just a sliver of yellow over the horizon. It's like they're a single entity, displayed for the receding sun to see, for it to shine its rays of light across, their chests painted golden and their eyes sparkling. When it finally slips away, glows intensely before falling to rest behind the calm seas curving along the horizon, he lets out a soft gasp, tightening his hold on Alex's hand and wrapping their fingers together, holding on for dear life as the light disappears. 

The glowing, orange hues of the sunset makes way for the soft, gradient blue of the night sky, and a soft glimmer of light sparks in Tommy's eyes when stars litter the darkness, sparkling across the surface in soft whites. Alex's other hand comes to rest on his hip, strokes along the soft curve with his thumb, and Tommy can't help but lean into it, reach down to run the tips of his fingers over the back of Alex's palm, a soft sigh escaping him. The fluorescent light of the moon reflected in each heavy wave that rolled across the sand, lit up the foaming bubbles as they washed ashore and disappeared, left behind a stale smell of salt as it melted away. Tommy feels like crying, this time not in a bad way, because when his eyes close, he can feel everything, every little point of contact his body is making, heat surrounding him at all angles and grounding him as prior hauntings wash away into a distant place in his mind, tucked away for good. All he can feel is good, safe, presented in the shape of his soldier, broad shouldered and tall, a frame that would wrap around Tommy and save him, and his heart aches at the thought that this could have been it all along, if he'd only opened his mind. He could've had it all if he'd allowed Alex in, and every night when the older man had reached out for him in the darkness, he'd been the one to push away, tear himself apart from the unknown and dwell back into the world he could control, the world that wouldn't judge him. 

A warmth shaped like a pair of lips presses against his neck, and the sky around them slowly disintegrates, curls away at the edges in arrays of grey smoke until there's nothing left, until Tommy is just asleep, his brain finally letting go of its tight grasp and sending him into a heavy slumber. 

~ 

Tommy awakes to birds chirping outside the apartment window, which was cranked open all the way to let in the soft summer breeze outside. 

On the floor next to the couch was William, whose hands were grabbing tightly onto the couch cushion in order to pull his little body into a standing position, his head full of curls tickling at Tommy's nose when he finally awakens. William gurgles happily at him and slaps his little hands against his arm, babbling happily when Tommy sits up and lifts him into his lap, landing a quick kiss to his blonde locks. The small boy had turned a year old the week before, and Alex had nearly suffered a stroke when the boy had stumbled across the floor on shaky legs before bending his knees and landing roughly on his bum, a wide smile adorning his chubby face. Tommy had then encouraged Alex to hold his hands and help him stumble across the floor, and they took turns catching the toddler when he would inevitably fall into their arms. 

"Tah-Tah," the boy babbled, a wooden train trapped between his stumpy teeth as he chewed on the dry wood, and Tommy couldn't help but to chuckle softly as he brought the boy with him into the kitchen, watching Alex stir a bowl of eggs on the counter whilst Charlotte sat next to him and observed. Her hair had grown half way down her back now, curling delicately much like her father's, and it had turned soft, dirty blonde in the past six months instead of the light blonde shade it had been around Christmas. She swung her feet, banging her heels against the cabinets, and she squealed with laughter when Alex reached out and pinched her thigh playfully, her small body writhing. He quickly reaches out for her and snatches her up in his arms. 

"Daddy, no!" She laughs, trying to escape his tight hold, and she quickly reaches out for Tommy when she spots him, her dad's arms wrapping around her middle to twirl her around on the floor, his face pressed into her neck. 

"Uncle Tom! H-help me!" She manages through her giggles, her little hands trying to pry loose the tight grip Alex has on her waist, and when he finally stops tickling her he wraps her up tightly in his arms and presses a kiss to her forehead, his hand supporting her back softly. Tommy grins at them and slips William into the highchair he'd purchased for him on sale at the local market, fastening the little belt around his middle to prevent him from escaping and cracking his skull open against the tiled floors. After handing the boy his train back and ruffling his hair quickly, he reaches out to wrap his fingers around Charlotte's hand and tug softly, his face soft. 

"Can't you two ever cook breakfast without making a mess of my kitchen? Bloody hell..." he murmurs. He can nearly feel the wide grin that spreads across Alex's face burn into the back of his head, and he barely makes out Charlotte pouring the eggs into the searing hot pan, stirring sloppily through the rapidly sizzling mixture with a spatula, her dad's arm wrapped protectively around her middle to keep her upright. A heat settled in his stomach, flurried through his insides and tickled along the tips of his fingers, the familiar surges of affection dawning on him as Charlotte leaned her small head to the side and kissed her dad's cheek whilst he stirred, his lopsided grin unmistakeable as he pulls her closer and helps her serve up the slightly burnt eggs. Tommy doesn't comment on the crispy black burnt bits that get stuck in his teeth. 

~ 

Merely two days later, Alex brings a letter home from work. It's raining when he bursts through the door, his raincoat soaked through and the hood pulled tightly over his dripping curls as he slaps the letter onto the kitchen table in front of Tommy at exactly 00:34 in the morning, his breathing loud and ragged. Tommy readjusts his reading glasses and inspects the crisp, white envelope, the sound of Alex's wet boots being thrown onto the floor echoing through the hallway. 

"What's this?" 

Alex looks like he's about to burst at the seams, his face a bright shade of darkened red and his arms covered in harsh, popping veins as he grips onto the kitchen counter, eyes wide. 

"That? I'll fuckin' tell you what that is, Tom," he stalks closer, crumples the letter in his hand as he pushes it into Tommy's face, hands smelling of oil and metal. "That's my fuckin' wife, swoopin' in here and ruining our lives. Fuckin' read it, Tom, I don't know what to do." 

Tommy can't help but to raise an eyebrow, and he doesn't even flinch when Alex throws himself into the chair and lights himself a cigarette, the thin smoke curling around the thick frames of Tommy's reading glasses as he pulls the letter out and unfolds it, some of Alex's ash landing on the damp paper. The first line is smudged, but there is no questioning what it says. 

** Running back to that fucking queer won't change a thing, Alexander.  **

Alex shifts in his seat just as Tommy draws in a shaky breath, his hold on the rumpled paper tightening. He looks up at Alex. 

"Did she send you this? Where the fuck did you get it," he presses, dropping the paper onto the table and reaching for Alex's cigarette, wrapping his lips around the butt and inhaling tightly, pulling away to allow the smoke to curl around his lungs, burn the sensitive flesh in the most distracting manner Tommy could think of. The letter lies untouched in front of him, and he can't bring himself to read the next sentence. Alex just silently slides the pack of cigarettes across the table. 

"Boss delivered it to me, said a blonde woman dropped it off before I came in this morning," he mumbles, chewing on his thumb nail. He looks back at Tommy, "she knows everything, she will fuckin' out us if she has the chance." 

"Us?" Tommy parrots, his head cocked as he sucks another lungful of smoke out of the rapidly burning cig. He eventually leans over and stumps it into the ashtray he hadn't used for 5 and a half years, watching the paper burn to a black crisp. he leans closer and taps his fingers on the chipped wood of the kitchen table, chewing softly on his lip. "There is no 'us' to out, Alex, you do know that? We've already fixed this, I listed you as my brother in the contract. As far as everyone in this building knows, we were born two years apart and lived a happy childhood up in Northern London at a fucking chicken farm," Alex snorts around the butt of a cigarette as he lights it up, puffing the smoke out through his lips before chewing at it softly, "She can't fuck it up, Alex, not this. I promise." 

He doesn't even notice it when he wraps Alex's hand up in his own and laces their fingers together. 

It doesn't seem to soothe Alex too much, though, seeing as he waves the burning cigarette around, small specks of ash landing across the floor as he speaks loudly. "her dad sleeps on a pile of cash every night, Tom, he owns the most successful business in the area," his fingers tighten for a second, the colour draining from his features, "his fat fuckin' face is plastered on every fuckin' poster around town, so don't come here and tell me that your fuckin' house contract is gonna save our asses 'cause it won't. He will happily pay to see me go down in flames, and I'll take you with me." 

It sounds final, determined, and Tommy keeps eye contact for a few seconds before letting the smoke slither out from between his pinched lips, watches it as it curls up in front of his face before disappearing into the air. It's a cloudy day outside, and when Alex decides to reach over and crank the window open to let in some air, Tommy watches his cigarette sizzle a bright orange and burn out faster, small specks of ash dancing across the floor. He flicks off the end into the ashtray before getting up, moving effortlessly across the kitchen to shuffle through a few drawers, flicking through stacks of old paperwork. Birth certificates, his mum's will, a few funeral documents. At the bottom of a stack he keeps in his third drawer to the far left of the oven lays a lump of heavy paperwork his father had handed him during their last dinner party together, only weeks before war was declared. If Tommy thought long and hard about it, he could still make out his dad's straight, roman nose and the dark freckles that lined the perimeter of his face much like his own. His pair of aged, working man's hands had handed Tommy one particular document and told him to keep it safe, to build a family of his own and make himself a lifetime of memories. Then they had shared a few cigarettes together on the back porch that evening, sipping on their warm pints of beer and watching as the sun disappeared behind the green hills. If Tommy had known that this was the last moment he'd ever shared with his dad, he would've done nothing differently. 

"Tom." 

Alex's voice lures him out of his trance, and with the document in hand he walks over to Alex, stands at the foot of the table as he places the crumpled piece of paper down next to the ashtray for Alex to inspect. it's yellowed along the edges, smells of firewood and cigarettes and maybe even aged beer, it smells like his father always did, and watching as Alex picks it up with nimble fingers to read each word carefully made something inside Tommy churn. His father would have a right fit if he knew Tommy chose to share this with a man.

"Dad left it for me when I was 13. Handed it to me before the war, told me to share it with my family," he explains daftly, sucking roughly at the cigarette before putting it out, lungs burning as he holds the smoke in a while too long. "Haven't got a fucking family, but I've got you." 

Alex places the paper down again and sucks the last remaining smoke out of his sizzling cig, coughing slightly as he inhales too quickly and ends up choking on the heavy nicotine, eyes red rimmed and puffy. A hand rubs over the scruff that lines his face, a weeks' worth of wiry hair growth Tommy had asked him not to shave off evident along the strong cut of his jaw, and when he finally leans back in his chair and chucks the cigarette out the window, he looks like he's about to tumble right off his chair. Tommy shifts slightly, 

"What the fuck is this, Tom?" He asks then, the timid whisper of his voice not quite matching the harsh cut of his words. His eyes keep flickering across the paper, fingertips occasionally brushing along the jagged edges only to pull away as if they burn him, his jaw clenching tightly underneath his growing beard. "You better not be fucking with me right now, I swear to God himself." 

Tommy shakes his head no, uses his ring finger to push the paper towards Alex's shaking hands, pointing to the address scribbled along the lines inked out by a typewriter, loopy letters that once belonged to Tommy's mother quickly becoming a sanctuary right in front of his very eyes, and when Tommy beckons him to look up, slides a hand up his arm, curls his fingers around his shoulder in a tight squeeze and fucking smiles at him like it's the last time they're gonna see each other, Alex can't help but to push his chair away from the table and rise to his shaking feet, gripping Tommy's face between his rough hands and pressing their lips together in a wet slide of quivering lips, his shoulders drawn tight up to the tips of his ears. 

"Are you for real?" He mumbles against Tommy's smiling lips, their hands resting atop each other where Alex has Tommy's face gripped, their noses brushing briefly against each other, "Tom, it's a fuckin' house," his voice is barely a wheeze as he presses each word past the tight squeeze of his vocal cords, throat clouded with smoke residue and tears, "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?" 

Tommy nods, opts to press their lips together once more as a confirmation that yes, he is indeed sure, and he has been so for months. Ever since that night before Christmas, the very night Alex had wedged himself back into Tommy's life and glued himself to his side, Tommy had been sure of his father's words and intended to honour them. Alex's arms slide down to grip at his waist, paw along the soft cotton shirt he's wearing, and Tommy doesn't even realise he's being pushed up against the doorframe, hands roaming over Alex's broad back. Their lips slide together briefly before breaking apart, the two of them panting into each other's mouths. 

"He left that house for me, Alex, it's all mine," he whispers, fingers stroking slowly across Alex's wet cheekbones and tangling at the wispy curls around his ears, "there are bedrooms for all of us, the kids can have their own as well. It's all empty, no neighbours around for miles," Alex barks out a wet laugh and presses a few kisses to the corner of Tommy's lips, "no one would ever find out. Ever." 

Alex's eyes are even more stunning up close and personal, the small specks of golden flakes surrounding his black, smoky pupil shining brightly as he presses their foreheads together, laced fingers brushing along their clothed hips as they stand there together for a while, closed eyed and content, basking in each other's presence as birds chirps outside the window. Tommy can't help but to reach up and tangle his fingers in those curls, slide his fingers along Alex's scalp and pull him back in, each little press of their lips littered with breathy laughs and noses rubbing against one another. Alex carefully wraps Tommy up in his arms, hands supporting his lower back, and they share another quick kiss. 

"I'm gonna spend my whole fuckin' life with you," he whispers, the plump flesh of his lips moving down to brush over Tommy's chin, hands roaming down to slip into the back pocket of Tommy's baggy pants. Tommy nods slowly in response, tilts his head back to allow Alex's mouth to latch onto his neck, breath ragged and cheeks flushed. "No hiding, no lying; it's gonna be you, me, and the kids..." 

Each word is accompanied by a chaste kiss to the skin of Tommy's neck. 

"… And a dog." 

Tommy's quick to laugh and push him away, happiness evident in his shining eyes as he leans against the wall, hand rubbing subconsciously against the spots littering his neck. Alex grins at him. 

"We're not getting a fucking dog, Alex." 

Alex shrugs quickly, wide smirk curling across his face. He reaches out and tangles their fingers together, pulling Tommy after him into the living room. Tommy willingly follows, and right before Alex bends down and kisses him like there's no tomorrow, he presses closer to Tommy and whispers faintly in his ear. 

"We have our entire lives to decide." 

And for once, Tommy realises that Alex is entirely correct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And btw, this wasnt supposed to be their first kiss in 5 years but I got so carried away and i have to get up in like, 6 hours and my head is pouding omg. Sorry, I love you all


	18. I realised something fucked up

Okay, so I thought I was gonna wait until I had finished the, ehm, epilogue, but this is just too fucking hillarious to not write about so here I go.

So, I kinda realised the other day that this story is finished? Like, literally, I read through the last part 'cause I was struggling so bad with the next part, I couldn't write anything and it drove me to near insanity, and like, I just looked at it and realised that the reason why I'm struggling is because I'm already done. There's nothing more I wanted to write, nothing I wanted to include; it was done. And then I spent a few hours just punching myself in the head because Jesus fucking Christ how lost can a human being be, like, for real. This is the most stupid shit ever and I'm so embarrassed but it took me three weeks to realise that there's no poiiiintttt caaaaause ITS FUCKING FINISHED

okay I gotta calm down hahah, but anyways, I'm just posting this and letting you know that I'm working on a last part since I felt so guilty about this whole thing, but since I'm struggling I just don't know when it'll be up, so I'm finishing this gay, sappy mess off with a salute to you all and a big, big, bigggg thank you, I love you all so much. Your patience never ceases to amaze me and I can't even begin to describe how much it means to me that you read and comment and give your kudos even tho I never update 'cause I'm the slowest motherfucker on planet earth. 

But, yes, I finished it, I'm working on the 'goodbye' part or whatever, I wanna tie up some loose strings but I have to figure out which strings and how to mend it all together without it feeling like a summary. This story is a work I'm really proud of, along with His Soldier, His Alex, so I wanna do it justice by finishing it off with a cracker part that'll make everything clear if it isn't already. thank you for your patience, I love you all, and I hope the next and last part won't take me too long. 

Much Love xx


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